Becoming Wendy
by Firstbitegirl
Summary: Wendy has spent the last twenty one years of her life pretending to be perfect. But tonight, on a normal Saturday evening, the oddities that once filled South Park begin to return. Friends and flames from the past emerge and if she comes through the rest of this year alive, she'll find her true identity waiting on the other side.
1. A Little Less Ordinary

**A brief disclaimer, as is tradition. I do NOT own South Park or any of the beloved characters OR anything the reference to. This story is one I hold dear to my heart. I apologize for the briefness of this chapter, I promise they'll get longer and better :) please enjoy and feel free to let me know how you like it! I will say this...it's a pretty bumpy ride. **

**This story is dedicated to the cast of the South Park RP I was a part of two years ago. Without them, these ideas would have never been formulated and I would have never had the passion to come up with a story on it. This one is for you guys 3 **

It's raining again.

The snow clouds hung heavy in the sky, full of the promise of the winter's kiss. The temperature in the air is rapidly dropping. The light is dying in the sky, turning the world gray and casting long, thin shadows against the sidewalk and street.

Its sundown in South Park but the cold dreary feeling that lingers in the street would leave you wondering what time of day it was.

Small, round raindrops explode against the ground, sending icy drips in every direction. Puddles accumulated during the day have gathered on the side of the street, rippling with new water and distorting the reflection of the passersby.

On the corner of Main Street, down right before the City Wok and right around the corner from the road that would lead you to the elementary school, is a small, well kept eatery. It's relatively new, having been built in the past three years. They serve a variety of decent, American foods at all hours of the day. It's well known in the area for being open twenty-four hours, which means it's a usual stomping ground for the men coming out of the bars and the teenagers, drunk and in need to sober up. It's that kind of place that serves cold beer whenever you need it and plenty of bread when you don't need any more beer. A small number of people are employed here, the majority of which being a couple middle aged women who need something to put food on their table for their kids. But then there are a couple of college students, struggling to save money and maybe someday make their way out of South Park and onto what they can only imagine to be better things.

One of these kids is Wendy Testaburger.

She has just turned twenty one and she's pretty. Long black hair and soft, dark brown eyes. Her face has thinned and with age, she has gained a long, graceful neck and high cheekbones. She stands at barely 5'5 and her body is perfectly proportionate. Her chest is ample, the wish she's desired all of her adolescence, but still nothing compared to her friend Bebe's double D's.

It's the end of her shift and she's more than excited to go home. Her mind gently reminds her of the homework she needs to tackle and she shoves the thoughts away, not wanting that bogging down her good mood.

Wendy could have gone anywhere she'd wanted for college. Her high school career had been nothing short of practically flawless. She's been president of multiple clubs, the valedictorian of her graduating class, and still dating one of the stars of the football team, Stan Marsh.

That, however, was over two years ago now. And life was very different.

Her car is parked out in the front of the eatery, a rarity on busy days like this. It's nothing special; an 2002 gray Toyota Corolla with her graduating tassel and a small keychain shaped like a rabbit Bebe had given her. It was good on gas and, while it wasn't the flashiest, it did its job and for that, she's grateful.

She's freezing, pulling her coat around her and rushing into the front seat, fumbling with her keys and multiple key chains. When she finally fought her way into the vehicle, she cranked up the heat and just saw.

She lets her dark hair down, soaking wet and dripping down her goose bump riddled arms. She pulls her cell phone from her purse to check her messages, smiling when she sees three missed calls from Kenny.

She puts the car into drive and turns off the radio. Today, she isn't in the mood. Today she wants to listen to the rain and the cars, the splashing and the rumbling engines.

Today, she decides as she leaves the parking lot, she wants to enjoy a little bit of nothing.

The only thing that bothers about this misty, cold evening is that, unfortunately, it's just another South Park Saturday.

She contemplates calling Kenny back, but she could do that once she's had a shower. Chances are, and she almost laughed, he wants to go out tonight and she'll need to rush and get ready anyway. So why not allow herself a head start?

After high school, when she and Stan fell apart, Kenny had come to her aid. Wendy had always felt a little guilty, watching those good friends fall apart. But so much of it was Stan's fault…and she wouldn't be a part of his train wreck anymore. She actually still saw the other three more often than not. Cartman was still heavy and Kyle was still Jewish. Kenny was her little man whore, her best friend, the person she confided in most in this world.

And why, she didn't really understand. She couldn't remember the exact moment in time where she and Kenny had come together as friends, although one moment stood out in her mind.

It was the last month of her senior year and Wendy could no longer stand the idea of being trapped in the school's news room any longer. Listening to Red go on and on about the filters she used on her photography was making her dizzy with nausea. And she needed her fix.

Yeah, her special fix.

Her favorite thing, her darkest secret. A habit that had developed in late middle school. It was how she coped; her own brand of therapy. When all the clubs and the cheerleading and the boyfriend drama…when it all go to much…all it took was the flick of a match….

She had snuck out behind the bleachers at school. She remembered thinking she had a half hour window before the football players had practice so there would be no one around. No one who could see her crouch down into the mud with her notebook. She had opened her purse, pulling out her bright purple Bic….and setting the pages of her notebook on fire.

Burning things had become her obsession. To watch something burn and char, to turn to ash and to nothing right before her very eyes…it helped her forget. It gave her power over something ultimately and she had no shame in it. Well, until it was threatened that her secret might let out. And on that day, it was most certainly threatened. Or so she thought.

From out of the small groundskeeper's shed, just as she was inhaling the sweet aroma of her smoke, a girl had stumbled out. Wendy thought she'd recognized her as Cara Hopkins, a busty blonde two grades beneath them. She was wiping her mouth frantically and went scrambling away, dragging her backpack behind her. That was when Kenny emerged, zipping up his fly and looking over at Wendy with a baffled expression.

A secret for a secret, she supposed. After that, she recalled them becoming more and more close.

And yes, perhaps their friendship was founded on a fear of being had out. But true affection for her best friend had grown over time. She couldn't count how many times he'd secretly spent the night when things got rough at home. He'd held her when Stan left her and when she left Token (but that was another story entirely). He had come to her on advice when he discovered he was bisexual and whenever he needed to gush about his sexual escapades. Wendy had let him scream out his rage at his drunk father and she had run out with him in the middle of the night when her own father had become too unbearable.

Ah yes, her father.

Wendy loved her parents dearly, but they refused to believe she was anything short of their picture perfect superwoman daughter. And he also didn't seem to understand that she was no longer twelve years old. This is why she'd moved out into a small apartment right on the outskirts of the city. It was humble and cluttered, but all hers without fail.

She could hear her cell phone buzzing again and she ignored it, making a left at the green light outside of the movie theater. She found herself in the residential area right outside her own home. As a matter of fact, she could see the top of her apartment building from the stop sign she rumbled at. And she probably would have gotten there sooner if it wasn't for the huge moving truck parked on the side of the street. She slowed down, pausing to see if she could drive around it without killing any of the movers. She turned her head to look at the house, taking in its grandeur. As a matter of fact, she squinted at it, she didn't know if she'd ever seen this house before.

It was huge, possibly three stories with large, dark windows and a dead landscape. It was painted creamy beige with a black trim. The things being moved inside were all built from dark cherry wood and looked antique. Wendy put the car in park for a moment, watching as a massive grandfather clock was ushered through the arched doorway. She whistled to herself, grabbing her phone and snapping a picture to send later. She didn't bother to check her messages though; she could do that at home.

She suddenly felt someone's eyes on her. She lifted her gaze to one of the top windows, spotting a dark figure watching her. She couldn't make out his face; it was too high up and too far away. But whoever it was, they were watching her. And the strangest part was she felt like she'd felt this stare before. It wasn't an unfamiliar sensation and it spooked her.

Wendy looked back at the road, put the car in drive and zipped off, staring at the huge house in the rearview mirror. At least at this distance, whoever was watching couldn't see her.

Even though she couldn't shake the feeling she was still being watched.

She pulled into the parking lot of Wandering Willows and parked in her usual spot right underneath the street light.

It was beyond Wendy where they came up with names like "Wandering Willows" or "Deer Run". Never in all her time living in communities had she seen a gaggle, or even one, running deer. And she had especially never seen a willow there; definitely not one that yanked its roots from the ground and wandered away. South Park was known for some strange happenings, especially in her youth, but that was Lord of the Rings type of shit.

She hurried over to her door, room 203 right by the stairwell on the second floor. She forced it open, clicking on the lights, than locked it quickly. She had far too much experience working around creeps to not be proactive about safety.

Her house was homey, to say the least. The walls were painted a neutral cream and brown. She had a few picture frames out, PLENTY of candles, and her very own wine rack that she took personal pride in. But it was humble, that was for sure. Her book shelf had over two dozen novels on it though and it was always growing. Despite the crammed living/kitchen area, her bedroom and bathroom were plenty spacious and really, that was all she cared about. That, and the massive flat screen she'd sat outside of walmart for for six hours on black friday.

As she dropped her purse on the table and switched on the other lights of the house, she finally got around to check her cell phone. The texts from Kenny ranged from random jumbles of letters and obscene threats for her to text him back. But there was one of importance.

_"Wendy! Babe! Going to Crave tonight – the whole gang is going. Got a surprise for you! Old faces are showing up. Give you a hint….good ole' Gregory! …..I'm not very good at secrets, am I?"_

How odd; the other missed call she had was from that old friend exactly.

She tilted her head, thinking deeply and texting back with her acceptance to the invitation to go out.

Maybe it wasn't going to be a Same Ole' South Park Saturday.


	2. Crave

**Hey everyone! Thanks to everybody who read, followed, and commented! I really appreciate it! Sorry it took so long to update - I was starting to think nobody was interested but now I see you are :D PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment and let me know what you think: good or bad, as long as it's respectful! I hope you guys enjoy 3 **

**Chapter 2**

While Wendy's apartment wasn't anything grand to the eye, there was something about it that made it much more appealing to her. As a matter of fact, it was what had initially sealed the deal for her to begin with. The only bedroom had a bathroom with a shower fit for a princess. It was a light brown tile with flecks of pink speckled throughout. She'd gone out the day after she'd moved in and purchased a giant showerhead that, after the help of Kyle, she had installed and was able to enjoy at her leisure. And the tub, what a dream! She could spend all day stewing in the warm waters, which were peppered with her own cocktail of bubble baths and oils. The smell in there was always perfect. And with a candle burning and her favorite Pandora station turned on, there was nothing more for the tightly wound woman to do than watch the flickering flame and relax.

But tonight, she could not.

No amount of warm, bubbly water could sooth her limbs. Her mind would not settle on the vanilla and sandalwood candle. She fidgeted, sending sloshing of bath water onto her clean floor. She rubbed her face roughly, coming close to getting suds in her eyes, and lowered her head into the broth, cursing under its surface. And it was there she stayed, watching the small, crystal bubbles scurry out of her mouth and to the surface, in such a rush to burst and die. She exhaled completely, relishing in the feeling of her empty lungs before bobbing her head back to the surface and taking back in cool air.

She emptied the tub quickly, towel drying her hair and putting on her bra and panties before slipping into the main bedroom. Upon opening her closet and doing an initial scan of her clothes, she summed up that she had nothing to wear and, therefore, she couldn't go out.

But she knew if she called Kenny and told him this, much like she had done many times before, he would probably come over and rip of face off. So instead she bit the bullet, digging around in her closet until she found a few dresses she decided were satisfactory. As she slipped into the first one, a small, brown number with black buttons in the back, there was a frantic knocking at the door. Wendy knew who it was before she ever undid the lock.

Kenny leaned on her door step, chewing a huge wad of bright pink bubble gum. He was dressed to kill, like always. A dark orange button down and light blue jeans hugged his fit body. His blonde hair was tousled in the style he loved. He grinned, lifting a large brown bag for her to look at.

"Lookie what I've got." He said with a smirk and then paused to look her over. "The fuck are you wearing?"

"It's an option." She told him patiently, allowing him passage into the living room. "You don't like it?"

"I wanna fucking kill it so it can't hurt us." Kenny took two bottles from the brown sack he had. "Shit, who let you buy that?"

"Bebe." Wendy felt a flush of self-consciousness as she walked by him to fetch a couple of cups and a mixer. "What'd you bring?"

"Cherry rum for you, apple vodka for me." He held the bottle full of the fruit flavored liquor inside and kissed it. "Also, I'll be crashing here tonight. I think that goes without saying."

"Of course." Wendy hesitated, then grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. She was sure Kenny would choose to drink it straight, but she liked the strange flavor the cherry and orange supplied her with.

Once their drinks were poured out, they retired to Wendy's bedroom where she continued to decide upon an outfit. In the corner of the room, she had a small, Japanese curtain set up from behind which she could dress without worrying who saw. Kenny lay out on her bed on his stomach, sipping his vodka and ice gingerly.

"So I saw the move in truck." He called to her as she slipped into another dress. "I can't remember the last time someone actually moved to this fuck hole town."

"I don't even remember that house BEING there." She said, pulling up on the zipper and coming out. "Do you?"

She was now in a dark purple romper with watching sandals.

"No to the house and no to that vomit you're wearing." He sent her back behind her curtain. "Sandals in this weather, Wendy? You're fucking nuts."

Wendy rolled her eyes. Kenny considered himself the authority on making sure women were dressed to the appropriate level of "hotness." However, he could be a bit sneering about the whole thing.

"So who all is going?" she asked, tiring of the subject of the creepy house. Just thinking about it gave her back goose bumps.

"You, me, Craig, Kyle, Cartman, Bebe, Red, and Gregory." She held him choke a little on his drink, meaning he had something important to say that couldn't wait. "Can you believe he's back? I haven't seen that kid in forever. I have him added on Facebook…that's the only reason I even know about it."

Wendy had kept in touch with Gregory, ever since discovering his Facebook back in early high school. He had mellowed out significantly since childhood and she wondered why he hadn't bothered to mention to her he was moving back. She came out for a third time, this time in a short, black and white dress. She smoothed it out so there were no wrinkles, but her clothes never had wrinkles. They were always perfect. Perfect, she thought staring at her reflection, can be faked with the simplest of tools.

A clothes iron, a razor and good shaving cream, a hair straightener, the right make up, and a practiced attitude. With that, she could have everyone fooled. With that, she could conquer the world. She had decided long ago that acting the way she really wanted to was better done sporadically and in absolute private.

Kenny nodded his approvable when he saw her.

"Totally fuckable, babe." He assured her, giving her the ok symbol with his hands. Wendy shook her head.

"Exactly what I was going for." She remarked, taking a long swig from her cup before grabbing her makeup bag.

"Everybody wants to look fuckable." Kenny told her smartly. "Otherwise, why would we bother primping before going out?"

"Because we don't want to look like apes?" Wendy asked, sliding the eyeliner across the bottom of her lid.

"Exactly. No one wants to fuck an ape. Except maybe other apes….but then again, who wants to get fucked by an ape? You see where I'm going with this?"

"Yes Kenny." She took another drink. "I'm going to have to pound a couple of these before I can handle you."

"Gotta get up to my level, baby." He winked, finishing off his drink and then excusing himself to the kitchen for another.

Wendy shook her head silently. There was a good chance Kenny hadn't eaten anything that evening; sometimes, he went a couple days without eating just because of his home situation. But that always meant he'd end the night with his head in the toiler. Or, more pointedly, Wendy's toilet. Fortunately, Wendy had received free dinner on the job so she didn't have to worry about that. Her stomach was full of grilled chicken and baked French fries so she wasn't at risk for the same illness her friend had coming.

Wendy finished her beauty regimen quickly then spritzed herself with perfume. A pair of boots and a jacket and she was ready to go.

She came into the kitchen, finding Kenny downing is second drink. He winked at her, holding up one of her thermoses.

"One for the road." He said encouragingly.

She laughed and took it, taking a small sip and puckering at the strong flavor. She didn't bother to say anything, knowing Kenny would just laugh at her for being a "light weight". She downed the last of her first drink then out they went, locking the front door behind them.

On nights they went to places like Crave or Backdoor, they always walked. Drinking and driving was never an option and when the places were so close by, who needed a cab? By this time of night, all of South Park was dark and silent. A few of the houses still had lit windows, but usually, everything was completely still. Kenny sipped from the thermos he brought for himself, shaking his head.

"I remember this place being a lot more happening, don't you?" he asked her seriously. His puffs of air in the cold night smelled like apples.

"I do." She concurred, sipping her own drink quietly. "Things were a lot different growing up."

"I'll say."

They came around the corner and onto the main road. A few cars drove by, but even they moved at a snail's pace. The brisk air made Wendy shiver, especially since her legs were bare, but the rum kept her insides warm. Around another corner they went, passing the old elementary school. She didn't stop to look at it, but her eyes never left the large, yellow building as they passed. So many memories, she mused in her mind, so many beginnings there. She could even see the playground from there. The huge tree that had once stood there for them to play on had long since become dead and dry. It brown, skeletal fingers were stretched up towards the sky, as if reaching for the stars. She shivered a little and kept moving.

The conversation between her and Kenny was null. Kenny was too focused on getting drunk and Wendy was too engulfed on her freezing kneecaps. They rounded yet another corner, this time coming down a busy street. The sound of thumping bass and loud music came vibrating towards them and she knew they were close. The pair finished their drinks, hiding the thermoses behind the garbage bin they always did. It was placed right at the beginning of an ally way so no one ever bothered them.

Crave was a massive building. It looked like it might have been a warehouse or storage facility at some point, but now it was nothing but a brick built, rust colored night club hot spot. The words "Crave" sat over the entrance in enormity, glowing a florescent yellow into the night. Fortunately, no line had formed as of yet. They were there early enough for the free drinks and before the crowds, it seemed. However, their group was waiting for them.

"You shit heads are late." Cartman bellowed as they approached. "Never trust a poor man and a woman to be on time. One's too broke to buy a watch and the other is too stupid to tell time."

"Fuck off, lard ass." Kenny punched him hard in the arm.

Cartman hadn't changed much in their lifetimes. He was taller now, hitting the six foot three mark and very large. His girth was still something to behold; he was easily a large in shirts and Wendy couldn't place his pant size. He had muscle though; the years of being a linebacker for the football team in high school had done wonders to his body. Cartman's looks probably gave him no trouble with the ladies, but there was still plenty of chub there.

Kyle was much smaller than his childhood rival. He came in at barely five seven, unless you counted the puff of curly red hair that sat atop his head. His face was littered with faded freckles, giving him a much more youthful appearance than the rest. He waved at Wendy, giving her a tight hug.

"Long time no see!" he mused, his voice much deeper than his appearance let on.

"That's what happens when you have a waitressing job." She said, feeling tired just mentioning it.

"Try working for your dad." He said, exasperated. "It's a whole different animal entirely."

"Wendy!" Bebe's shrill voice cut the pair off and she was suddenly swallowed up in a huge, landing square between Bebe's humungous breasts.

Bebe's appearance had only improved over the years. Her long, naturally curly blonde hair was always managed with ease. She was dressed to the tee, as per usual. A tight fitted red dress with matching pumps. Her makeup looked professionally done and all her jewelry, down to the anklet she sported, matched her attire. Not to mention her breasts were as perky and perfect as they always were.

"Hey Bebe!" she hugged her back as Red approached them.

"I love the dress!" Bebe mused then reached out, giving Wendy's left breast an upward pat. "And you actually have tits in it! It's perfect!"

"Give her a break, Bebe." Red rolled her eyes. "Just because she isn't titzilla like you are doesn't mean she's flat chested or anything."

"Thank you, Red." Wendy said, self consciously crossing her arms over her chest.

Red nodded her recognition at the words of thanks. Red was a pretty girl too. Her naturally red hair had only darkened with age, turning a fiery crimson in her late teens. Her skin was fair and clear; no signs of blemishes or marks. She had a boyish build, not being very curvy in chest or ass. In short, Red was plain. Plain in the way she looked, in the way she dressed, and in just about everything she said. But Red had a flair for the creative, and that attracted Bebe like a bee to honey. It was no wonder they'd become so close.

Craig hung out towards the back of the group, looking completely dethatched as usual. A cigarette parted his dry lips and the smell of smoke clung to his dark blue shirt and jeans like a wretched cloud. He nodded at Wendy, acknowledging her silently. With Craig, you were lucky to get even that out of him. He was a man of few words, but many hand gestures. Even now, as Kenny leaned on his shoulder and rambled to him like he usually did, Craig would only occasionally flick him off. Wendy wondered why Craig even came around. He hated Cartman and Kyle; the mere mention of Stan sent him into a foul mood for days. Bebe and Red gave him headaches. He only tolerated her, simply because she was Kenny's friend. Yes, she smiled privately to herself; there was definitely something about Kenny that changed the equation for Craig.

But she would never speak of it in front of him. She'd heard that under a stern vow of best friend silence.

The only person left un-greeted now, was Gregory. He stood before Wendy at an easy six two. His arms were toned and littered with blonde hair. His hair was long and slightly curly; his eyes were bright and cheery. He opened his arms to offer a hug and Wendy accepted, smiling radiantly.

"It's been too long." He remarked, letting her go. "My, you've grown."

"So have you." She said, in amazement of his appearance.

Gregory had never been unattractive. Even in their youth, she'd had a thing for him. But now, with his muscles and charming smile, she felt old butterflies sputter about inside of her. She suppressed them quickly, reminding herself she was among friends, not potential dates.

Wendy didn't really date anymore. After Stan was hard enough, but after the long, rough break up with Token…she shivered, remembering the hard time Stan's family had given her, how she had cried after graduation from the names they called her. She and Token were still friends, somehow, but she had trouble forgetting the harshness that had come with a moment of happiness.

Besides, she told herself reassuringly, boys were too complicated. And when you have as many hidden strange tastes as Wendy, it was better off to stay separated.

"You know I'm SO GLAD I got all dressed up so I could stand outside sober in the cold." Cartman whined sarcastically. "Can we go inside now?"

"Relax, lard ass. We're going." As always, Kyle had little to no patience with the bigger boy.

Cartman snorted some witty retort but Wendy wasn't listening. She fished her I.D. out of her clutch and showed it to the bouncer. He smiled at her, showing her recognized her, and then waved her inside.

Crave was a nice club, especially in South Park where the nightclub scene is all but dead. There were a few places that were decent. Normally if you wanted something more action packed though, you'd have to head out for Denver. But Crave definitely satisfied the desires of the younger crowds who didn't feel like making the long drive out. It was spacious, coming in at two stories with four bars. The dance floors were sprawling and while it was mostly bump-and-grind kind of music, specific nights had themes which could be fun. Wendy was reminded of the country western night she, Bebe, and Kenny got hammered on whiskey sours and attempted line dancing.

She snaked her way through the crowd, moving between people and contorting her body to fit between spaces she normally wouldn't try. She found her way to the first bar; Clyde was bar tending. He smiled when he saw her and held up his finger to indicate her to wait.

Clyde had grown up to be the most handsome of the boys. He was very tall and very muscular; his dark brown hair was long with a slight flip and his skin, unlike some people, had survived puberty without a single mark. He was witty and charming, handsome and popular; it was no wonder he and Bebe were still dating on and off. But right now, judging how the blonde had made a beeline for the opposite bar, they seemed to be off.

"Hey hot stuff. What can I get for you?" his voice carried over the music well. He was obviously practiced.

"Long Island." She said with grin, leaning on her elbows while he mixed it up for her. "How you been?"

"Busy with classes, but I'm alright." He called over his shoulder. "You here with the guys?"

"Mhm!"

"I get off at one and I'll come find you guys." He slid her the drink but held up his hand when she pulled out her clutch. "On the house, baby doll. Your money is no good here…."

"Clyde!" she protested.

"Go" he shooed her away. "And if I find out you went to another bartender, I'll be pissed!"

She laughed, making her way back into the crowd and easily finding her group of friends. Kenny had already started chatting up a busty brunette who Wendy feared might suffer from a nip slip at any moment. Craig and Red looked equally uncomfortable, giving each other uneasy looks then looking off into the crowd. Bebe suddenly grabbed her wrist and began to tug her towards the dance floor.

"Let's dance!" she urged.

Without much resistance, no matter how much Wendy hated to danced, she went along anyway. This was a routine she knew all too well. Wendy turned so a curtain of blonde curls bounced behind her. She snuggled up to Wendy, twisting her hips seductively as she stared lustfully at the onlookers. Wendy placed her hands on her friend's slender hips and twisted down towards the ground with her. She always played the part of the giggly, quiet friend, allowing Bebe the leading role of smoldering sexpot. They must have been a good looking pair, Wendy concluded, since the amount of male attention always doubled around this part.

She felt a larger pair of hands settle on her own hips, drawing her close. The smell of beer and cologne and sweat filled her nostrils and, in her buzzed state, she decided it was repulsive. She wiggled away, muttering sweet apologies that couldn't be heard over the Pitbull remix blasting over the speakers. The boy, a tall dark haired stranger, didn't seem too bothered. Without eye contact, he simply moved over to Bebe who was now in the center of a two man dance sandwich. She winked at her friend, giving her a flirtatious thank you before turning her attention back to twisting and grinding.

And in that moment, Wendy was lost in the crowd. She found herself a drift in a sea of unrecognizable faces. Where had Kenny and the others had gone? The buzz was making the lights shine brighter and she was wondering how she had ended up alone this evening. The stress mounting; hands grabbing at her, sweaty bodies sliding by, a hundred cat calls followed by a two hundred back pick up lines. She chugged the rest of her drink, trying so hard to swallow the urge to run home. Was she having a panic attack? She wasn't unfamiliar with those; she had many in high school. They could only be calmed by one thing…

Wendy fled to the back of the club, feeling like a fish swimming against the current. She found herself approaching the VIP section, somehow slipping under the rope unnoticed. Thank goodness for thick blondes in tight dresses, she thought as she eyed the bouncer chatting up one.

She slid into a unoccupied booth, finding her saving grace. A small candle on the table flickered and danced in the plain glass cup it had been placed it. Wendy dug into the clutch, pulling out an old recipt from who knows when. She dipped It down into the flame, watching as the glossy white edges turned a charred black. The flame flickered darker, engulfing the small paper. She let it char, feeling the instant heat on her fingers, than dropping the remains to burn in the dish with the wick. It was calming, this odd action. She felt a sudden rush of self awareness and she looked around, praying no one had seen her.

"I don't think anyone is paying attention to you."

The voice came from her right. She turned quickly, finding herself looking at a man in the booth beside her. He had jet black hair and dark, glimmering eyes. His skin was like porcelain, so fair she feared it might shatter upon touching. She wondered if he was one of the goth kids; he was so familiar that it could have been a possibility. He had on a form fitting black turtleneck on and a pair of dark wash jeans. He had on a silver chain with an unrecognizable pendant on the end.

"Excuse me?" she flashed him her brightest smile. "I don't think I understand what you mean?"

"Sure you don't." he said it darkly then tilted his head. "Wendy, right?"

Her stomach dropped. He knew her. He'd seen her.

"Um…..yes." her voice was a squeak. "And you…?"

The man laughed

"I'm not surprised you don't remember me." He put down his drink. Wendy could smell something warm coming from his direction, but she couldn't put her finger on what it could be. He himself emitted an essence of sandalwood and cinnamon…and…smoke? He spoke and she gave him her attention. "We did only go to school together through middle school….was it even that long? Who cares." He gestured at himself. "Damien."

Wendy's eyes widened in recognition.

"Damien!" she was genuinely surprised. She hadn't seen him in so long. He had disappeared sometime during middle school, around the time when things in South Park…she frowned. She couldn't really remember much before then. She remember more…..something? Small flickers of memory returned to her; memories of strange creatures and celebrities and impossible things…..things, she settled, had been thought up by a child.

"You just moved back?" she asked kindly, suddenly aware of her dress and smoothing it out.

Perfect. It looked perfect.

"Just today." He didn't seem terribly interested in speaking to her. His eyes kept traveling from the candle to her. "In a neighborhood not too far from here."

Wendy thought of the strange house and the eerie shadows. She shivered, but wondered…

"Is it off Elm?" she inquired. "I saw some moving trucks…my apartment isn't too far from there."

He nodded.

"Little Miss Perfect has her own place?" he grimaced. "Figures. So what brings you to such a shit hole? I would have thought you'd spend your nights studying."

"I can go out and dance sometimes." She assured him. "Besides, Crave isn't so bad."

"Everyone I've met here has been an asshole." He informed her thusly. "Definitely not the watering hole I was expecting."

"Yeah the crowd can be rude." She muttered. "Too many grabby guys who don't really care if it's your they're feeling up or not."

"So then why come?"

She shrugged.

"It's somewhere to go." She sighed. "I'd rather go down the street to Intent, but my friends love this place."

Damien nodded, but again, he didn't really seem interested. She couldn't understand why he was asking her things if he didn't bother to listen to the response.

"So why were you burning your receipt?" he asked, finally looking interested.

Wendy stammered, her mouth making small, soundless "oh"s.

"I just couldn't find a garbage can." She regained her composure, speaking in her best class president voice. "It seemed like the more environmentally friendly way, anyway."

"You seemed pretty fucking frantic." He told her after another drink. "You must really hate garbage."

"I've also been drinking." She reminded him. "People act irrationally when they've had a few."

"And drunk people are always so eloquently spoken." He replied sarcastically, his eyes practically glowing at her from the other table.

Even in the dark, she could see the red tint to them and she felt an uncomfortable wiggle in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm always well spoken." She told him softly, her head still held high.

Her back was aching from sitting so straight. She wished he would just go away so she could slouch and order another long island.

"What're you covering up, Testaburger?" She was shocked he remembered her last name. "You got some weird candle fetish or something?"

Wendy frowned at him and before she could speak in own defense, Gregory appeared with Cartman.

"Wendy!" he waved at her. He'd been drinking and smelled like wine. "We've been looking everywhere for you! How did you get a VIP booth?"

He looked around at the fine leather seats and marble table. Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Probably the same way we just came in; walk by Mr. I-Hope-That-Drunk-Hottie-Lets-Me-Cum-On-Her-Tits." He shook his head . "Poor boy is puking his brains out. Craig came and told us he's been holding up in a stall for twenty minutes. They escorted him out."

"Oh Kenny." She sighed heavily although she wasn't surprised.

She was more surprised that no one had noticed the still glaring company she'd accumulated.

"You guys remember Damien?" she gestured at the table but paused.

He was gone, leaving behind nothing but the cup he' d been drinking out of and half a box of cigarettes. She gapped, confused.

"Oh fuck me." Cartman snapped. "This bitch is drunk too. Screw you guys, I'm getting Jewboy to drive me home. Only sober fucker here…"

He waddled off, muttering to himself and charging between the bouncer and his drunk friend. Gregory gave Wendy a sympathetic smile.

"Damien?" he questioned. "Like the little boy we went to school with?"

"He was here…" she told him, suddenly doubting herself. "I'm not crazy."

"I know." He assured her, offering her hand to help her from her seat. "But overtired perhaps? Come on; I'll help you get Kenny home. If I remember anything about Craig, I'm sure he won't be much help."

"You'd be right." She laughed, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her through the still thumping club.

Before she left, she grabbed the half empty carton up and scooped it into her purse before Gregory could ever notice. A memento, she told herself, of a very vivid daydream. And something to burn later once Kenny had passed out in her bed.

His hand was large and warm; it cocooned hers as they made their way to the entrance. Wendy noticed Clyde was no longer at the bar. She checked her small, silver wrist watch and saw it was already approaching two AM. How had that happened?

The pair emerged into the silence and stillness of the cold night air. A gasp of icy air into her lungs cleared her head and she sighed, enjoying the sensation of it on her skin. She saw Red, standing on the corner texting rapidly. She looked annoyed.

"You with Bebe?" Wendy asked, still clutching Gregory's hand. She saw Red's eyes scan over the clasped palms then answers, briskly.

"She went off to some guy's house; she's on the way back now. Apparently they got half way there and he realized he didn't have his wallet. She's a dumbass." Red shook her head. "And now Clyde is upset and he left in a huff. How do I end up in the middle of this shit?"

Red and Clyde were good friends and Wendy truly pitied her situation. She offered a sympathetic smile.

"You know Bebe." She said in her best diplomatic voice. She was too tired for this shit, but she did her best. "She'll complain tomorrow about what a dumbass she is when she's drunk and then she'll apologize. It's always this way."

"I know." Red gave her a pink cheeked smile. "It's fine. I'm just being overly sensitive I guess."

She turned away, receiving a phone call from one of the assumed parties of the evening.

"So much drama." Gregory remarked, letting go over her and crossing his arms. "Never a dull moment here, hm?"

"It's such high school bullshit." She told him, blushing at her slip of the tongue. "Pardon my French."

"So polite." He mused then chuckled. "It's alright; we all slip up sometimes."

"Things are usually very dull around here." She assured him. "If you're looking for peace and quiet, you've found the right place."

"I remember it being so much more action packed, don't you?" he asked her. "I don't know why I think that…"

"I know what you mean." She told him. "A lot of us feel that way. I guess we just had active imaginations as kids."

"But don't all children?" he laughed smoothly then looked up at the night sky. "We need to catch up some time, you and I."

"We should." She agreed. "A noisy nightclub is never the proper setting."

"Never." He shook his head. "Maybe we can do something this week? Maybe ice skating? I haven't gone in a long time and the weather is perfect for it."

Wendy grinned, never passing up an opportunity to be outside or show off her superb skating skills.

"I like it." She agreed. There was a lot she wanted to ask him, to catch up on, but tonight was not the night. "Text me and we'll make plans."

"Sounds like a date."

That was when Wendy saw where Kenny was holding up. He was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, splashing his right foot around in a small puddle. There was a dark spot on his shirt where vomit had once been. She approached and he looked at her through glossy eyes and put a single long finger to his lips.

"I'm drunk." He whispered loudly as Wendy saw Craig, still standing over him, roll his eyes.

She crouched in front of him, humoring him. It was all you could do when he got like this.

"I won't tell." She promised, offering him a finger for a pinkie swears.

"Good. I don't want it ruin my chances with anybody." He winked playfully.

She laughed but before she could speak back to him, there was a scream from behind her. Wendy turned around, her eyes wide. A girl who had just come from the club let out the sound and for good reason. Crave's roof was suddenly ablaze. It had come from out of nowhere it felt like and the size and heat of the flames was incredible for that reason. People around her began to scramble. She felt Gregory pull on her, urging her to move away. She could hear the awful sounds of screaming coming from within. The fire was just so mesmerizing though. By the time she found it in her limbs to move, she had memorized its radiant color and massive, ever changing shape. It was an unusual flame, from its sudden appearance to its massive size. It even smelled strange.

It smelled, she thought as the fire truck arrived and she moved to a safe distance to watch, faintly of cinnamon and sandalwood. Or was she imagining that too?


	3. Fault Line

**Hey honies! Sorry for the delay on updating! I'm working on a couple of different stories at the same time so I'm trying to do a chapter for each at a time ;) either way, I finally have chapter 3 for you! It's definitely my favorite so far and I hope you all feel the same :) We just gotta keep getting better and better! 3 Please review and let me know how you're feeling it! Hope you enjoy! **

**xoxo,**

**Mimi**

Chapter 3

The fire was unstoppable. A reputable beast, she raged against Crave like a vicious villain. Her mouth, ever hungry, consumed the roof of the building like it was a cracker. The crackling popping of wires filled the air and the relentless stink of burning surfaces and flesh consumed Wendy's as she stared in awe of the fire's majesty and cruelty.

Her arms were wrapped around Kenny, who may have been too drunk to grasp what was going on. The wailing of fire engines sliced the air as harsh red and white lights appeared around the corner and came barreling towards them at an alarming speed.

"About time they got here." Craig muttered. His voice was just a little more shaken than it normally was. "I was starting to think no one was coming."

"I'm sure they aren't used to getting calls like this." Gregory was staring at the fire as well.

Wendy watched him sniff delicately; he seemed distracted by something. The expression in his face was that of puzzlement.

"What could cause such a fast fire?" she asked him.

Her voice was so quiet, she was surprised he could hear her over the commotion. He looked down at her, the shadow of the flames on his strong face, and he shrugged.

"A number of things." He said off handedly.

But Wendy could smell a lie from miles off. And when he looked back at the burning club without so much as a follow up word of comfort, she knew there was more to the story than he was letting on.

A few firefighters who weren't spraying gushing hoses at the fire were coming around to the groups of young adults sitting outside. Much to Wendy's relief, quite a few people had made it out alright before the fire could consume so completely. But she was sure there were plenty still trapped inside.

She tried not to think of it.

A muscular, dark skinned firefighter came towards him. His deep black hair was cropped short into an arm style cut and his face was that of a strong, deep thinker. He came in at six two with broad shoulders and a way about him that made him seem even bigger.

"You all alright?" he asked in a rich, gravelly voice. He stopped when he looked closer at the group. "Ken? Wendy?"

Wendy gave him a sharper look and then relaxed.

"Token!"

She was on her feet with her arms around him before she knew what she was doing. His huge muscular arms wrapped tightly around her like she might try and get away.

"Were you two in there?" he asked, sounding fiercely protective. "Are you alright? How are your lungs? Did you breathe in any smoke?"

"We got out right before the fire started." She assured him as they pulled apart. "Kenny was sick and I was gonna take him home. I forgot you were still doing to the volunteer firefighting."

Token did a lot of charity in his spare time. He loved to help people of all kinds, putting his money and generous heart to good use. His fit body and quick thinking had proven perfect in the field of volunteer firefighting. He probably would have pursued it professionally if his parents hadn't insisted on him becoming a surgeon which, to Wendy's memory, he was a little over half way done at school with.

"Yep. Passes the time." He chuckled. "Hey Ken. You alright, big man?"

Kenny gave him a wobbly thumbs up, looking a little nauseous again.

"Just need to get home." He told him in a slur. "Too much excitement for me."

"You guys have a handle on him?" he looked at Wendy and then over at Craig.

Craig and Token were still very good friends. While Stan's little group had fallen apart of the years, the other famous four were still thick as thieves. Wendy assumed Token probably knew Craig was going to be here tonight. It was probably why he came over here to begin with.

"We've got it." Craig nodded. "Clyde is already home, by the way. I've been texting him." he held up the phone to signal it to him. "I think Tweak is on his way over there now; I'll go when I walk these shits home."

"Yeah, walk them home." Token didn't even register the insult. He smiled at Wendy with his pearly whites. "You gonna be alright?"

"Perfect." She assured him.

"Nice seeing you." He gave her another quick hug. "We'll have to hang out under better circumstances soon."

"Definitely."

He rushed away to continue helping before she could think of anything more clever to stay. Gregory snickered.

"Hello to you too, Token." He said when the man was already out of ear shot. "Probably didn't even recognize me."

"He's also dealing with a raging fire." Craig said plainly as he pulled Kenny's arm, helping him to his unsteady feet. "Let's get out of here. We don't need to be around when they start pulling bodies out."

Wendy's stomach dropped at the thought of that. What a nightmare it would be if she saw someone she knew. She shook her head in inward protest then agreed. She grabbed Kenny's other arm to help Craig and then looked back at Gregory.

"You coming?" she asked.

He looked over his shoulder and at first, she wasn't sure what he was looking for. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it. He looked back at her and smiled.

"I think I'm going to just head home." He said kindly. "It's been a hell of a first night back; I think you're in good hands."

Wendy nodded in understand and gave him a last, brief hug before they parted ways. Incognito, she looked back over her shoulder as they walked away. Even in the mob of people who'd come out to see the fire, she could easily keep her eye on the boy. He zigzagged away to the other side of the street, almost completely out of eye site. He stopped in front of one of the small trees planted there, making conversation with another man there. He had dark brown hair and sunglasses. Even though she couldn't tell where he was looking, it seemed he was glaring in her direction. She made eye contact with the darkened lenses for a moment, watching the gray cigarette smoke roll from the stranger's mouth, and then looked forward.

"Pay attention." Craig scolded her when she almost lost grip of Kenny's limp arm. He seemed to be falling asleep while they lugged him along.

"Oh." She shifted, hoisting their friend higher. "Sorry."

As they turned the corner, she gave the Crave building one last look. The gushing water was taming the flames; huge billowing clouds of smoke poured from every inch that used to be ablaze. Wendy could hear hissing from the smoke and she imaged the flames hurting as they were being doused and killed. A small twang of pity rang out for the dying beauty. Surely she couldn't have known how much damage she was causing. She was just doing the only thing she knew HOW to do. How could you blame her?

She hadn't asked to be created.

In the peaking twilight of sleep, Wendy dreamt. She was vaguely aware she was sleeping; the weightless feeling of her limbs and far away fog of her mind was a telltale sign. But here in this dream, there was something other than her lurking. She could feel its presence, shifting about in the gray darkness, watching her. She could feel it breathing, hear its heart beating. She called to it, letting the smoky smell fill her nostrils.

"Hello?" she called again, her voice echoing like she was within a mighty cave.

It, whatever it was, was coming towards. Whatever it was drifted in the dark and came towards her, demanding the same presence that an incoming wave came. She could almost feel herself being pulled into the wake of this massive thing barreling towards her. With it came a cold presence. It washed over her like tons of ice water. It hurt to breathe in those moments, hurt to think. She struggled, stirring in the dark like it was strangling her. Memories tried to resurface; memories of childhood and memories of…something…

Wendy awoke with a start in her bed. She inhaled loudly, looking around like something might be looking for her. The room was bright with daylight; her digital alarm clock declared it was already twelve thirty. She cursed herself for sleeping in so late. This was going to throw her off for the next day when she'd have to actually get up early for work. She had been up late with Kenny, waiting until he was finished being sick then pumping some fluids in him and showering him before bed. Craig had stuck around until she put him to sleep, even being tolerable enough to brew her a cup of coffee. She'd been grateful for the small sign of friendship, since they were so rare from the boy.

She leaned against her white wood headboard, letting her mind nestle into the reality of the day. She pulled her knees to her chest, trying desperately to collect herself. The dream had left her feeling disoriented and paranoid, like whatever had been stalking her in the in-between had followed her out here.

The toilet in her bathroom flushed and Wendy jumped so hard, she hurt herself on the head board. She smacked it hard, yelping as Kenny emerged.

"I have the runs big time." He told her, his eyes consumed with dark circles. "I mean, damn. Every time I drink, it insists on coming out both ends later. What's up with that?"

He looked a hot mess; his hair was standing in every direction and his pupils were bloodshot. He definitely looked like someone who'd been up most of the night being sick.

"You ok?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow, not sick enough to make his usual cocky expression.

"You scared me." She mumbled as Kenny came to sit beside her.

He had slept on the left side of the bed. He'd been so still, Wendy had often wondered if he'd maybe stopped breathing. She got to her feet, grabbing her bright pink marker and crossed off the past day on her calendar. She was very anal attentive about being on time with calendar updates. Every square had all the day's activities written in there. Work times, outings, lunch dates, movies seen, and bills to be paid were among the heavy hitters.

"When are you going to get rid of that thing?" Kenny asked her with a huff in his voice.

Wendy laughed.

"You don't like it?" she always teased. "I think it's cute."

It had been a gift from Red for Christmas; it was a calendar of pictures she'd snapped of the elusive Mysterion. It was a forte of hers; catching pictures of the elusive vigilante that sometimes appeared around the city. He was known for showing up with the bodies of dead criminals and was well known by everyone as a true hero. He was the little bit of her childhood she could remember, her admiration for the hero. How her heart sang when she thought of someone out there, standing up for the little guy and doing the right thing, even if it meant doing so with a mask on. He was a childhood crush of Wendy's and had become a rampant inside joke amongst their group. Red had even photo shopped some "fan art" on to the calendar; one of which included a well drawn Wendy doing a Spiderman kiss with the hero. One that everyone but Kenny found much humor in.

And she had no idea why.

"I just think we're getting a little old to be obsessed with these guys." He said distastefully. "It's a silly little kid thing."

"Because murdering rapists is something all kids do." She rolled her eyes.

"Some do." Kenny murmured as she sat back down beside him.

"I think you're still just cranky from the stomach ache you had last night." She said, humoring him.

"Can you blame me?" he asked gruffly. "I made a complete idiot out of myself in front of at least two really cute girls…"

"And Craig." Wendy added with a sneaky smile.

"…and Craig." He agreed heavily. "He's never going to want to sleep with me at this rate."

"I don't know about that." She said thoughtfully. "He did stick around until you went to bed. I think that says something, especially for somebody who really doesn't seem to like anybody."

"I guess." He smiled faintly and then gave her a worried look. "It doesn't make me a fag for thinking he's hot, does it?"

"No." she shook her head. "And don't say that word."

"Why? Your sensitive ears can't handle it?" he teased. "Little Miss Perfect's virgin ears can't handle real talk?"

"Shut up." She threw a pillow at him with a frown.

Kenny laughed but then put a hand to his forehead, wincing.

"Now I know what road kill feels like." He told her under his breath, rubbing his temples therapeutically.

"Do you want me to make you some soup maybe?" she offered, knowing a substantial meal would help. When he frowned, she readjusted her offer. "Or I can go get you taco bell?"

Kenny made a low grunt, pressing the back of his palm to his forehead and moaning loudly.

"I'd kill for a Mexican pizza." He sighed heavenly. "And a quesadilla with extra jalapeño sauce…and, like, three soft tacos. And a bean burrito….With a mountain dew."

"When was the last time you ate?" she asked, horrified.

"I don't know." He shrugged, the muscles in his arms tensing and releasing while he did so. "I don't remember."

"Sheesh. Fine. I'll go get some." She slipped back out of bed, deciding she was dressed enough to go through the drive through. She had on a long sleeve purple shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. The whole outfit had been purchased from Victoria's Secret; a very appreciated Christmas gift from her mother.

"Don't forget the Verde sauce." He hollered after her. "Just tell them to fill a whole plastic baggy for you."

"Yes, your majesty. Just don't break anything while I'm gone." She snatched up her keys on her way out the door, rushing over to the car.

She tried to ignore the biting cold as she rushed to crank her heater up, revving her engine a few times before pulling out of the nearly empty parking lot. The Taco Bell wasn't too far, maybe ten minutes at most. The drive through was all but deserted, which wasn't common on a South Park Sunday morning. The town was full of heavy drinkers, most who didn't emerge from the house on the weekend until around five when the bars reopened. She got her order taken quickly and after two visits back through to fix errors (and to talk the confused server she needed a whole bag full of the legendary green sauce), she was already on the way back home. She tried to drive quickly, doing her best not to take in the smell of the sloppy Mexican food. Her mouth watered and she daydreamed of ordering her own burrito and nachos. But she knew eating junk food was out of the question; the idea of ruining her figure was devastating.

_She looked perfect. She had to remain perfect. _

She pulled down the street, looking over towards the big house where she was fairly certain her ghost friend had mentioned he lived. She looked over at her clutch sitting in the passenger's seat where she had tucked the box of cigarettes. She hesitated then pulled over, deciding she needed to see if she'd imagined the whole thing or not. Kenny could wait a few more minutes for his food.

She got out of her car, grabbing her clutch and locking it behind her. She knew she lived in a safe neighborhood, but the house made her feel like she was in another part of town completely. She noted the patches of dead grass and a single massive tree. It was obvious that in the right season, if there ever was one in South Park, it would be lush and green. But now it was dead, but it was strange. There were no dry leaves on the ground. It was as if the tree had been born dead. Outside the house, the breeze had a scent of sandalwood on it and she froze. Memories from the night before reeling in her mind; the fire, the smell, the graphic mental image of the fire. She wanted to sit right there on the dusty front steps to collect herself, but she somehow managed to stand. She walked up to the door, giving it a brisk knock with the heavy brass handle. It echoed ominously throughout the house. It was a cold, hollow sound that made Wendy think about knocking on a tree trunk.

Moments of long silence passed after the knock that made her wonder if the hollowness meant an empty house. Maybe she had imaged the whole thing. She had had a lot to drink. It was possible…perhaps? She sighed heavily, turning on her heel.

Damien was waiting at the bottom of the steps.

She screamed, falling flat on her ass on the top step. She hit hard, but the shock of the moment kept her from really absorbing any real pain.

"Are you a stalker now?" he asked her with his arms crossed.

He was wearing black jeans now and a white t-shirt; nothing special and nothing showy. He had the same odd necklace on from the night before though. She almost smiled; she wasn't crazy it seemed. Maybe a little sore, but not crazy.

She scrambled back to her feet, using the railing to help hoist her upward.

"I thought I'd come return your things." She said in a chipper voice, reaching into her clutch.

She withdrew the box of slightly smashed cigarettes and handed them to him. She'd only helped herself to one, enjoying some after club therapy by burning it on her balcony before bed. The sticky hot smell of cloves and tobacco had soothed her while the red and gray ash had proven a great distraction. She handed them out to him with her biggest smile.

"I thought you might want them back." She told him enthusiastically as he took them into his hands.

"Yes, because I certainly couldn't have gone to the store and purchased another pack." He said gruffly, giving her a nonchalant look.

Wendy frowned.

"You're welcome." She told him sourly. "I mean, I figured since we're neighbors, I could just drop them back off for you."

He looked like he might have been preparing to thank her but the paused when he looked in the box.

"You took one?" he seemed amused.

Wendy began to shake her head profusely.

"Of course not." She insisted. "It must have been Kenny. He was really drunk and he stayed over last night—"

"So Kenny stays the night?" he smirked darkly. "I didn't know you and Mr. Parka were knocking boots. I would have pegged you for pure."

Wendy's whole face flushed a bright red. She pointed a threatening finger at him.

"A lady doesn't discuss her personal life." She told him a fiery voice. "And I'll have you know that Kenny is my best friend. It isn't like that."

"I'm sure." He told her with fake kindness. "Just like I'm sure he's the one who burned one of these up, not you, you little pyro."

Suddenly, Wendy spun into a rage. The mention of that word, that ugly, ugly word. That horrible, dirty word he called her. He implied she was some sort of weirdo. That she had some kind of crazy fetish. She lunged at him, giving him a hard push in the chest.

"Don't you DARE call me that." She snarled. "You can't fucking call me that!"

He raised his eyebrows like he was impressed. The heat of Wendy's temper was flaring like a wild fire and he enjoyed it.

"Down there, sweetness." He cooed with mock affection. "Can't take a joke? And what a potty mouth; shame on you, princess."

Wendy's face continued to flare red. She turned away, shamed.

"I'm very sorry." She muttered sheepishly. "I didn't mean to do that."

Damien rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Don't apologize." He grumbled. "Makes you sound like an idiot." He pulled out one of the cigarettes and popped it between his smooth, pink lips. "So I take you were probably crazy about that fire last night, huh?"

"You were still around for that?" she asked, suddenly surprised. "I figured you were long gone."

"It's all over the news, dimwit." He snapped, pulling a silver and black lighter and flicked the flame over the end of his smoke stick.

Wendy's eyes were riveted on the small flame and she struggled to focus on his words. But the flame outside on this cold day was captivating.

"I'm not a dimwit." She said sharply. "And no, of course I wasn't. You know how many people died?"

"People died?" he cocked his head. "Interesting."

"Interesting!" she breathed out in disbelief. "You're sick."

"Oh thank you." He smiled in a slimy way. "That means a lot coming from another spark sucker."

Wendy snarled at him, even baring her teeth a little. She suddenly felt wild and crazy, uncontrollable and vicious.

"Fuck yourself." She told him as she stormed off.

She felt his eyes on her all the way to her car and while she drove away. It was that same cold, fearful feeling she'd experienced only a day before when she first rolled by the house. But she ignored it. Her fierce anger was enough to keep the chill off her body. She gripped the steering wheel, her fingers and knuckles aching. At that moment, she realized that she'd left her phone on the porch in the spot she dropped. She cursed loudly, slamming her hand down. But she wasn't going back. Not now, at least. Not until she cooled down.

Not until she was sure she wouldn't strangle him and his smart mouth. She wanted to go back with a bright smile and kind demeanor.

And she was sure it would drive him crazy.

She pulled into her parking spot with a squeal of the tires and stormed up to her front door, nearly stomping on a stray cat hanging by the front door. Kenny was waiting in the living room, watching some show about an extreme redneck family on TLC. He looked up at her, exasperated.

"Where were you?" he asked frantically. "I called you and you didn't answer. I thought you'd gotten into an accident and destroyed my food!"

"Whatever." She dropped the food on the coffee table and continued her angry march into the kitchen to make herself a lean cuisine.

She could feel Kenny standing behind her while she struggled to rip open the small cardboard box.

"You alright?" he asked cautiously. "You know you don't need to eat that bullshit right? You're not fat or anything."

"Don't start with me Kenny." She threatened, pointing her knife at him as if she would actually do something with it.

Kenny stared at the pointed metal, wide eyed. He looked back up at her with a concerned glare.

"Put down the knife, baby girl." He carefully reached out, plucking it from her hands.

This moment seemed familiar. Her mind began to flicker like an old movie on a black and white screen. She could remember being a child, feeling feelings of rage and jealousy. The mental image of a beautiful older woman, maybe a teacher? She remembered speaking in tongues of Arabic; the feel of cold steel between her hands…

She shuddered hard and Kenny grabbed her up tightly.

"I lost my phone." She said, grasping at her composure as she spoke with a forced clarity. "I…I guess I just lost my temper…"

"I noticed." He said, concerned as he helped her straighten her back. "Don't stress it though…you're probably just hungry. And, you know, last night was probably pretty traumatic. We were there when people died…I'm just glad I can't remember bullshit. Here, I'll help you cook this….delicious meal you've prepared yourself."

He gave her a sparkling smile that made her laugh. She felt a little bit of peace as she calmed herself and quietly set about straightening up the kitchen. She and Kenny would exchange small, quiet smiles and she felt herself falling back into her routine.

But she was afraid.

Someone had discovered a fault line in her act.

And she seemed to be cracking.

She was going to have to set this Damien boy straight before it got any worse.


	4. Stalkers

**Hello all! New chapter; not much more to say than a big thanks to all new followers and a thanks for any and all reviews! Love you guys-hope to hear from all of you soon! Also, a big shout out to the SPRP Cast who have recently become readers! I'M SO EXCITED YOU GUYS LIKE IT**

**ok ok ...enjoy 3 **

While Kenny ate like a barbarian, Wendy preoccupied herself by picking at her lean cuisine (some sad excuse for pork pot stickers and rice) and painting her nails. She'd chosen a matte teal color that came out in thick, even coats. No sparkles, no shiny gloss, just pure, thick color that colored her long, perfect nail beds. Kenny's loud chomping and slurping of food was easily drowned out while she performed the therapeutic activity. Every brush stroke from bottom to top, doing so slow as to not get any of the tender skin around it. She had her clear bottle of top coat sitting right beside her, ready to complete them once they were dry enough.

"So are you gonna buy a new phone?" Kenny asked through a mouthful of taco.

"I think I know where it is." She said, not looking up from her paint and using her free hand to stick a pot sticker on her fork. "I just have to go get it."

"I thought you went through the drive thru?" he wiped his mouth with the flimsy paper napkin.

"I did." She delicately placed the food in her mouth, chewing entirely and swallowing before speaking again. "I made a quick stop and left it there."

"Where did you stop?"

"Are you going to pester me until I tell you?"

"Mhm."

"You know that new creepy house?" she asked with a sigh. "Damien lives there. I saw him at the club last night and we talked. He left his cigarettes so I thought I would go by and drop them off for him."

"Damien? That creepy little dude we went to school with?" Kenny whistled his surprise. "Hot Damn. I'd almost forgot he even existed."

"Well he does. And he's kind of an asshole." She told him, moving on to her clear coat of polish. "And now he has my phone and I have no way of getting in touch with anyone."

"So go get it back." He said as he attacked his burrito. "He doesn't know anybody around here; he's bound to be home."

"I don't want to see him. Didn't you hear me call him an asshole?"

"Yeah, but who cares? I'm an asshole. You still hang out with me."

"It's different, Ken." She finished her lean cuisine in two small bites. A pile of the slightly crunchy, flavorless rice remained but she'd lost her appetite. "I'll worry about it tomorrow before I go to work."

Kenny shrugged as he dunked his burrito in the bowl of sauce he'd made for himself. They moved back into a comfortable silence as Wendy focused hard on the color of her nails. It kept the thoughts of her anger and the reasons for it out of her head, although all the concentrating was giving her a migraine.

She wasn't paying close enough attention to the actual task, though. She smeared top coat over a still wet nail, leaving a goopy mess in its wake. She cursed inwardly, hoping somewhere, Damien had a horrible stomach ache or some other form of mild punishment for ruining her nails and her day.

Wendy woke up early the next morning and dressed quietly for work. She chose a pair of her favorite black jeans and a dark green button down. Her clean, glossy hair was pulled into a high pony tail with her signature purple beret perched on the back of her head. She spritzed on her Dream Angels perfume, basking in the clean smell as she packed up her purse and got ready to rush out the door. As soon as her black, non slip shoes were secured, she was out the door and in her car before she had the chance to feel the cold. She was notoriously good for getting in her car and beating the temperature to her bones. She drove up without hesitation to the gloomy house, storming up to the front door and thundering on the door knocker. She didn't care it was barely nine in the morning. She crossed her arms and waited, finally hearing the hollowing tapping of footsteps from within. The heavy door opened, revealing the groggy Damien. In that brief moment, she felt the passing horror of having woken his parents or a sibling instead.

She vaguely remembered Damien talking about his dad, but like most of her childhood memories, it was nothing more than a blurry nameless shit show.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he hissed at her.

His hair was ruffled from lying down and he only had a pair of, what else, black sleep pants on. His other wise bare body was exposed and daunting over, emitting a warmth from being cocooned under the covers.

"Good morning!" she said brightly, giving him her flashiest smile. "It seems I left my cell phone here yesterday. May I have it back?"

She extended her hand, showing him her bare palm and continued to smile simply at him. The pair locked gazes, as if waiting for the other to crack and act accordingly. Wendy gave her head a slight tilt, her eye ablaze as if to dare him to mess with her. Finally, Damien sighed loudly, dropping his tired head and disappeared back into the grand house. Wendy would have followed him inside, but that wouldn't have been polite. Besides, now she was worried she might have stirred a sleeping parent or two and the embarrassment would have been killer.

Damien reappeared, holding her purple and black phone. He held it out to her and she beamed graciously.

"Oh thank you." She said, gushingly. "I appreciate it. Now why don't you go back to sleep? You look peaked."

She turned on her heel, grinning wickedly to herself as she stared back down the narrow steps. But before she could reach the bottom, his deep, tired voice called out to her.

"Forgetting something?" he asked her with a cruel smile in his words.

Wendy cocked her eyebrow and turned to look at him over her shoulder. She kept the sugary sweet look on her face.

"What might that be?" she asked patiently, not in the mood for games.

Damien put his hand down in his pocket and plucked her light purple bic out and wiggled it around in her line of vision. Wendy felt her eyes widen and she tried her best to keep her stride paced as she hurried back towards him.

"Oh yeah." She said, trying to sound offhandedly. "That silly thing. I'll take that back."

"Silly?" he held it just out of her reach. "Well if it's silly, I'll just throw it out for you. You know, just trying to be neighborly."

"Not necessary." She insisted, reaching up for it, feeling the plastic bottom touching her fingertips before it was plucked out of her reach again. "I can do that myself."

"I insist!" he said with a false sweetness that made her want to round house kick him in the face. "It's only right after upsetting you."

"You didn't upset me!" her voice went up an octane higher as she falsified a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous! No! I was just hungry; puts me in a mood every time."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he asked her, smirking. "All dressed up at nine in the morning? Work, I'm assuming? You don't need this foolishness holding you up."

"Damien." She said, becoming exhausted from jumping up and down like a neurotic bunny rabbit. "Please give it to me."

"Get mad for me." He told her simply without any infliction.

She couldn't tell if he was doing it to spite her or if he genuinely enjoyed watching people get upset. Wendy stared, confused.

"No." she told her shortly. "Why would I—"

"If you want this stupid thing back, you're going to need to prove to me how badly you want it." He told her in a way like one might talk to a thick headed child. "Now get to it or I'll melt it down. Or are you into that too?"

He was pushing her buttons and Wendy really wanted to turn around and go buy another at the gas station, but she gave in. Her let her temper come over her like a thunderous wave and she spoke through clenched teeth.

"Give me the fucking lighter." She told him in a heated hiss. "Before I choke you on your own dick."

"Now that's more like it!" Damien spoke excitedly. "Tell me more!"

"This isn't funny!" she stomped her foot and jumped again. "Give me the fucking thing!"

"No, you haven't earned it yet."

She nearly got it from him this time. Her hand knocked into his and the lighter dropped out of his hands on impact. It hit the floor, the metallic part on top popping off and breaking when it hit the rickety porch floor. Wendy gasped and she bent to grab it.

"Shithead!" she snapped at him, throwing the broken pieces at him. "Look what you did!"

"It wasn't on purpose." He told her in a firm voice. There was something in his eyes. Maybe an apology? "It's not like you don't have a hundred more at home."

"I don't." she snapped at him. How could he understand the embarrassment she felt when buying a new one? Feeling like she was putting her dirty habit on display. "Fuck face." She snarled as she stormed off, leaving the smashed pieces in her wake.

He called out to her, but she had no interest in anything he wanted to say. She had driven off by the time he'd gotten to where her vehicle and was half way to work before she began to cry.

Work successfully cheered Wendy up. The overhead PA system was working again, supplying them with current, upbeat country music to work to. Wendy even found herself dancing around a little with her tray over her head, much to the amusement of the three year old at the table she was serving lunch to. The PA system had been quiet and still for almost six months now. Weekdays the silence didn't matter much, but on weekends when things got busy, the staff relied on the out-of-date jukebox by the bar which spewed 50's, 60's, and 70's hits exclusively. The patrons weren't fans needless to say, especially after three or four or five beers. No, they hadn't had access to a decent sound system until now; after Heidi turner spilled her doctor pepper all over the panel of the speakers, it had never worked quite right again.

Wendy looked over at Heidi who was busy busing her table. She had the same pale brown hair and chubby cheeks she had in elementary school. The only real difference now was she was taller, almost 5'7, and very thick in the hips. She gave Wendy a sad smile as she tucked her meager one dollar tip into her apron and continued on to her other table. Heidi was getting ready to transfer to some fancy college on the east coast. She hoped she would do well there; she hadn't entirely blossomed under South Park's cloudy skies.

But then again, what flower could develop in sunless conditions?

But wiggled her butt a little while she picked up a few dirty cups, unable to ignore the fun melody of the Brad Paisley song. The two older women she was serving giggled and Wendy beamed at them, knowing she'd just sealed herself a nice tip.

Yes, it was always a much better shift during the day than during the night. She'd much rather wait on tired mothers with fussy children, older couples and aged friends than drunk men and sloppy teenagers. There were no crude comments during the day and no sorry attempts to grab at any of her naughty bits. People weren't so brave in the daylight, she had decided.

The front door chimed and she heard Nicole, another South Park lifer, whistle an attracted sound. She looked over at the shapely African American girl who gave her a cold look. Wendy and Nicole didn't get along ever since she had dated Token. Apparently, only black people can date black people and Wendy was obviously too light skinned. But she was still polite to the girl, smiling and greeting her every day as if there were nothing wrong.

Watching the twisted look of confusion in Nicole's pretty features was actually one of Wendy's favorite past times. The dumb, racist bitch.

Gregory had entered the establishment, wearing an off white button down with the sleeves rolled half way up. His khakis were ironed and creaseless; he was a glowing example of a perfect human specimen and flawless laundry handling.

"Ok. You're stalking me." She joked as he slid into a small booth and she handed him a menu.

"Last I checked, stalker's don't check with a girl's best friend for her work address. I think stalkers are bit more sneaky."

"No. I think that just makes you a stalker who knows your facts." She informed him thusly.

"Well, so what if I am?" he chuckled, giving her an innocent bat of the eyes. "It could be much worse, love. I could awful to look at and creepy to boot."

There was that charming accent; it made her smile.

"Who said you weren't an eyesore?" she teased.

"That sparkling look on your face when you see me." He replied smoothly, cracking open the menu to look at the glossy pictures beneath him.

Wendy turned her head to hide her blush then pulled out her notepad to take his order.

"Want a drink?"

"Just an unsweetened tea, if you please." He checked his bulky wristwatch. "And….hm. Let's see how you all recreate fish and chips."

Wendy laughed and nodded, scribbling everything down as quickly as she could and then put it in the window to be filled. She got him his tea quickly, somehow remembering he liked a lot of lemon. He smiled warmly when she placed it in front of him.

"Thank you." He said warmly. "Can you sit a spell? Or are you busy?"

Wendy looked up; her section had finally cleared out. She had just waved off the friendly women who left her a hefty seven dollar tip. Heidi was sitting on a bar stool with her nose in a book and Nicole was boredly flirting with the chef. She nodded.

"I think I have time." She slid in the booth across from him. "So Gregory, what on earth brings you back to South Park?"

"This and that." There was that evasive nature to his voice. "I have no definite plans; staying here until the next location catches my fancy. I'm a wanderer, I suppose. What about you, Wendy?" he leaned forward. "Why are you still HERE?"

"Saving money mostly." She answered honestly; there was no use in lying. "I'd like to travel someday, maybe live in Boston for a while. I just….no one ever left." She managed a beaming smile. "And where would they all be without me making sure they didn't wander off a mountain?"

"Or into a raging fire."

"Exactly."

Gregory laughed in that light, simple dulcet voice of his that eased her tense bodies. She felt her shoulders tighten further, if that was even possible.

"You're rich, Wendy." He told her earnestly. "I'd almost forgotten that. Then again, the last time we saw each other in person wasn't on the best terms was it?"

Wendy opened her mouth to agree but then clamped it shut again. She…didn't remember? She remembered his parents moving away and him going with them. She remembered sharing a silly children's kiss with him somewhere in a faded portrait of a memory, but that was all. And she remembered being angry, but she chalked it up to silly, child righteous anger which held as much water as a bucket full of holes.

"You don't remember?" Gregory seemed surprised.

Wendy shook her head, no.

"I have a lot of trouble remembering details of being a kid." She confided in him. "But so does everyone, I think. At least everyone I know. Well, except Kenny. But Kenny—"

"Is a basket case." Gregory joked. "That's unusual, Wendy. From what I understood, you all encountered some interesting things in your youth."

Wendy shrugged her shoulders.

"Nothing more out of the ordinary than anybody else." She said, still having trouble recalling. It was beginning to pester her.

Gregory seemed genuinely surprised by her last statement as she excused herself, grabbing the food from the window for him. She gave it the once over; the fish pieces were large and crispy and there was an abundance of fresh French fries that had been salted with a heavy hand. She grabbed a bottle of malt vinegar in favor over tartar sauce and delivered it to him with a grin.

"How quick!" he mused. "It looks delicious."

"The food here is decent." She promised as she sat back down. "I think you'll find it good; I've never had anything bad here. But I usually always just get baked chicken and veggies."

"Healthy eater, are you?" he asked as he popped a French fry into his mouth. She nearly dribbled with envy.

"Very." She said with pleasantries. She was very aware that she had a strand of hair out of place and she was quick to tuck it back into her ponytail. "No junk for me."

"How dedicated!" he mused. "Good for you!"

"Thanks." She chuckled and then her eyes lit up. "Oh! I'm not crazy!"

"I'm glad to hear it."

"No! Remember how I thought I saw that boy, Damien at that night club?" Now she'd caught his attention. He stopped in mid-chew of his fried fish. "He moved in down the street from me! I took his stuff off the table when he disappeared and I took it back to him."

"You've spoken to him?" he asked cautiously. "What's he said to you?"

"Nothing in particular." She said with a frown. "He's kind of a dick, but I mean….just a normal guy, I guess."

"A normal guy." He repeated with a nod of his shaggy blonde head. His pale hair had been slicked back today with a few curls at the nape of his neck. "Doesn't sound too interesting to me. I think your venture may have been in vain, my sweet."

"Maybe." She felt a little sadness that nothing came out of discovering her mysterious stranger. "No matter, I guess."

"On to bigger and better things." Gregory assured her.

At that moment, a woman and her three children entered, in need of a table, menus, and booster seats. Wendy flew into action like a pro, situating them and places their drink orders in just about five minutes. Once they were looking over food options in satisfied silence, she made her way to the table. Gregory was already on his feet, pulling out his wallet. Wendy hadn't noticed the black gloves on his hands until now.

"Keep the rest as tip." He told her, handing her a fifty.

Wendy's eyes bulged and she gapped.

"I…that's far too much, Gregory. I can't accept that."

"Such a doll." He said dreamily. "You're perfect, Wendy. You truly are."

She was glad he thought so. Another happy customer, a wicked version of her own voice hissed in her ear.

"But I insisted." He took his hands, folding hers on the bill. "If anything, pay me back by joining me in ice skating tomorrow. Won't you?"

Wendy laughed and reluctantly agreed. It sounded far too much like a date for her to be comfortable.

"Fine." She sighed heavily and he leaned in, giving her a huge hug.

"I'll see you then." He told her. "We can catch up when you aren't busy serving food."

"Sounds good." She hugged him back, enjoying his warmth.

"Wendy? You smell like smoke."Gregory sounded alarmed and Wendy felt her heart plummet down into the very pit of her stomach.

"It must have been from being at Damien's earlier." She said offhandedly. "I went by to pick up my phone; I'd left it there when I dropped off his things."

He didn't question her. Instead he nodded along, listening intently.

"Of course." He said with no hint of disbelief. "Yes, it makes sense. Its smoke mixed with man, mixed with…well…you."

They both shared another laugh and Gregory was gone out into the snow. Wendy didn't waste any time, cashing in the money and pocketing her heavy tip. She saw Nicole give her an envious look which she returned with a honey sweet smile.

Suck on that, bitch.

The rest of the shift went by quickly. She worked a double, not getting out until almost six o' clock. Wendy was exhausted, her feet aching and her head throbbing from not drinking enough water during the day. She was already daydreaming of taking a long shower and sitting down to a hot meal upon walking in her front door.

As part of her routine, she checked her texts once she was buckled in and before she left the parking lot. A few from Kenny, a missed call from Bebe along with a message to call her back ASAP (something about how "what a dumbass I am.") and then….a text from Damien.

He had saved his number in her phone, the sneaky bastard. The message was simple:

**_"I need to speak with you."_**

She rolled her eyes and pushed Bebe's name to call her back. Not a chance was she calling him back.

As she pulled from the parking lot, she never noticed the man sitting on a motorcycle parked behind her. He watched her from behind dark lenses that seemed impractical in the fading light. He finished the last of his imported cigarette, stomping out the butt with him steel toed boot. He was handsome, muscular, and slightly resembled a famous actor from a show about two demon hunting brothers.

He was the same man from the other night, the one Gregory had spoken to outside the club. He started up his bike, keeping his sights set on the Corolla as Wendy lazily drifted around a stop sign, and then peeled out after her.

It seemed that Gregory wasn't the only stalker in South Park that night.


	5. Mercy Killing

**Hello everyone! A big thank you to everyone who reviewed and followed! I love you guys! Please continue to leave feedback: as silly as it sounds, it really inspires me when I know people are engaged :D:D Also, to address some of the questions left by you guys: I have NOT read any other Damien fanfictons (with the exception of one that was only a paragraph long) and I would love to read some just as soon as I'm done with this one. I don't want it to influence my writing at all so you guys can feel free to message me some good ones I can look at when this fic is all done. Also, I LOVED the song "tomorrow wendy" thanks so much for the recommendation! Also, "wake up wendy" by elton john and "hello" by evanescence have helped with writing too! Ok so here we go: enjoy and please review!**

**xoxo,**

**Mimi**

Sometimes when she was alone, Wendy had a strange habit of dreaming with her eyes open. Her mind would drift off during a song on the radio or on a "what if" notion that had wandered through her thoughts, and suddenly she was lost in a graphic scenario in her mind that she couldn't stop. Sometimes they were so vivid, she had trouble pulling out. No matter how she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, it would go away and she would have to ride it out until the bitter end. Her body tended to work out auto pilot during times like this, so she had never been caused harm during such times, however, she did almost drive into a tree once during a particularly vivid mental image of a young boy being stepped on by a huge monster.

Today, as she drove home with the low hum of the radio to keep her company, she had another. She'd just hung up with Bebe, who'd been hysterical over sleeping with some strange guy while drunk. Of course, the conversation ended with her urging Wendy to go out with them to some bar for ladies night on Wednesday. Some people never learn, she had decided long ago. Especially when putting her best girl friend into the equation.

In her mind, the road in front of her faded away and she saw the playground she would play on as a child. She could hear laughing and running, the voices of those she knew now but lighter and youthful. And then she saw what looked like a small whirlwind. Toys and children were being tossed around like they were as light as a feather. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out the figure in the midst of it. It was a small boy with dark hair and pale, pale skin. His eyes were looking upward and they burned with a fire she'd never seen before. He was human. He turned his small face towards her and their eyes met and she knew she's seen him before…

A loud honk of a car horn brought Wendy back to reality and she slammed on the breaks before she could hit a passing red Honda. She gripped the steering wheel, lurching forward as the car around her zoomed by, shooting the bird as she passed. She breathed out slowly, collecting herself and then continuing home very…very…slowly.

The sky was a dull gray color when she got around to parking. The sunlight had all but died in the dusk sky and she was dismounting her vehicle as a loud motorcycle rumbled by. She didn't even look up, paying no mind as it parked across the street. It was a busy neighborhood; motorcycles weren't uncommon.

She grabbed her purse and walked up the stairs to her apartment. As she rounded the corner, mulling over what to make for dinner, she focused her eyes on the ground. She reached the second story and found herself staring at a pair of well polished shoes. She cocked an eyebrow and lifted her head, frowning on seeing Damien standing there.

"You take your time getting home from work." He told her, his arms crossed as he leaned lazily against the wall by her door.

Wendy had stopped in her tracks, looking confused.

"How did you know where I lived?" she asked slowly.

"You told me." He said it plainly, as if she were thick for forgetting.

"No. I told you I lived down the street…" her voice trailed off.

Had she told him? Her memory had been so terrible lately, it was certainly a possibility. But…she really felt she hadn't. Had she?

"Well you did." He rolled his eyes. "You never answered my text."

"Why should I?" she asked coldly, marching by him to unlock the door. "You broke my things this morning and then you had the audacity to put your number in my phone like we're friends or something."

"Actually" he corrected her. "I put my number in your phone and THEN broke your things. Your timeline is off."

"Damien." She squeezed her eyes shut and walked into her warm apartment. She turned to look at him. "What do you want?"

Damien folded his arms behind his back and looked at her pensively.

"I came to offer that I find you a substitute for your broken lighter." He said it as if he'd rehearsed the words before she'd gotten there. "I feel…moved…by your dedication to it and as a fellow enthusiast, I would like to purchase you a replacement."

It felt like an apology, but with a hundred flowery words thrown in to make it appear like a business proposal.

"So you feel bad and want to buy me a new one. Is that what you're saying?" she crossed her own arms now and cocked her head to the right.

"In so many words." He said it tightly, not enjoying his words interpreted so plainly. It was clear he hadn't wanted to say he was sorry, but she'd left him no choice. "Are you willing to accept?"

"Yes." She said, giving him her stunning smile. "I never turn the opportunity down to have someone buy me a new lighter….come inside. I need to change."

He followed her inside, bringing with him an unusual warm presence. She turned to face him for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"Here….um….just sit here for a second, I guess." She motioned at the sofa. "I'll just be like five minutes."

She hurried up to her room, pulling out a pair of comfortable light wash jeans and a long sleeve purple v-neck. She tossed her slightly stained and French fry reeked uniform into the hamper and was back out in her living room before Damien ever got the chance to get comfortable.

"Ready?" she asked, adjusting her purse over her shoulder and beamed a smile at him.

"Wow Princess, you're quick. Not a hair out of place; good for you."

He got to his feet and looked her up and down.

"Yep." He said with an heir of self importance and distaste. "Never a strand out of place, is there?"

"It's a specialty." She told him with a slightly tilt of her head.

They headed out the door and into the cool dusk air. Wendy contemplated taking the car, but as Damien began to walk out onto the main sidewalk, she just went along with him. The gas station wasn't too far and it was a nice night for a walk. They went along in silence. Wendy's shoulders were set straight back and she walked with her chin up. Her eyes moved from one place to another for barely a few seconds, touching on different things as they went along. Every house they passed, she couldn't help but notice any dogs in the yard would run away from them. They'd look at her with large, fearful puppy dog eyes and scuttle away with their tails between their legs. Even the particularly barky Chihuahua hustled away from them and under the safety of the bright yellow VW bug in the drive.

"That's strange." She said with a tilt of her head.

"What's strange?"

"There's no dogs barking." She listened for a moment to the still hum of the air; it was practically electric. She was still looking at the scared eyes of the poodle from underneath the car. "They usually all bark when they see people."

"Maybe they have better things to do." Damien suggested, looking off at the dog.

Wendy could have sworn she saw the poor thing flinch.

"It's just not normal." She told him decidingly.

"Normal and South Park don't go comfortably in the same sentence." He said with a little shadow of what could have been a smile. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting.

"Everybody keeps saying that." She said, almost angrily. "Everybody keeps bringing that up…"

Damien gave her a curious look and she peered up at him through her curtain of dark hair. For a moment, again, that sensation of almost remembering something tickled and teased her mind. That whirlwind….that little boy…..a…platypus? She snorted out loud, quickly covering her mouth and widening her eyes.

"The fuck was that?" Damien asked, alarmed.

"I had a funny thought." She struggled to say through snorting chuckles.

"Care to share?" he asked as they fell into the dull green glow of the BP.

"I….its a long story." She said with a smiling sigh. She felt a little loony but she pulled herself into composure. "I'm not sure how to explain—where are you going?"

She had begun her walk through the different pumps up to the station door, but Damien continued down the dark sidewalk. He gave her a confused look and lifted his eyes to look up at the florescent sign.

"You thought I was going to get one here?" he asked, almost insulted. "No. That plastic colored bullshit is an abomination. We're going elsewhere; come on."

"But mine was only a Bic." She hurried to fall into step with him, looking over her shoulder as the gas station got further and further away. "It's not necessary to spend more money than that…"

"Wendy." He stopped for a moment and turned to look at her. There was something daunting about him whether it be his height or just the looming dark his presence demanded. "All artists need proper tools. If not, you're going to end up with a mess and defeat. I'm an expert on this…trust me."

His words struck her as strange. There was almost a genuine caring in his words, although his infliction in his tone didn't hint at such a thing. When he saw she'd absorbed what he'd said, he kept walking. She followed along in silence, finally speaking.

"You know a lot about…fire?" she said it quietly, like she was afraid of being overheard.

"Too much." He told her assuredly. "I doubt there are many who know more than I do."

"I see." She held her tongue although she could easily have asked a thousand questions.

And who could blame her for being curious? She had never had anyone to talk to about…she shook herself and quickly reminded herself that she COULDN'T talk to him. This was a quick trip to the store and nothing more. She couldn't let him know the extent of her…..

"…condition." She said it to herself under her breath, as if hearing the words on the cold night air made it more official.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"Nothing." She flashed him her prettiest smile. "Nothing at all."

_"Nothing you ever need to know." _

They walked along the dirty sidewalk awhile, slithering in and out of neighborhoods and small, strip malls. A light snow flurry dusted Wendy's raven hair with white specs and she wished she'd chosen to wear one of her knit caps. She always looked like a dust bunny with her hair like that; shame on her for forgetting something to put on her head.

"How do you even know where we're going?" Wendy asked as they passed the dark, motionless windows of a clothing store. "You just moved here."

"Just moved BACK here." He corrected her as they snaked through the back way of a very old row of stores. "I remember a bit. Besides, I know how to Google."

"Oh yeah…the internet." She said it offhand, since it was such a strange tool to have forgotten it existed.

They passed a closed toy store and Wendy met the eyes of a doll sitting in the front window. It had long black hair, tied with white ribbons at the end. It wore a matching dress of lace and frills, finished off with polished shoes that shone distractively in the dim light of the outdoor street lamp.

The doll was beautiful, except for the crack in her porcelain running from her forehead down to her glossy little eye.

A big black crack. A deep, bottomless pit of a crack with secrets whispering out of it. A fault line. A big, fat, FUCKING fault line in the middle of the FUCKING face.

Wendy had to force her head to move so she could look ahead again. She hurt her neck a little in the process, straining a muscle. But she managed to look unbothered, despite her racing pulse and suddenly shaking hands.

"We're almost there." He told her absently. "It's just the next shopping center over."

"Alright." She even managed to sound chipper.

You'd never know that the mental image of that doll was still sizzling in her thoughts like a hot skillet.

They came up on the next strip mall within minutes. It's amazing how fast one can walk when they're trying to outrun the cold. It was just as deserted as the last, with the exception of a moderately busy Italian restaurant at the very end. Wendy could see a trickle of older people coming in and out; the air around them smelled like garlic bread. Damien led her to a small store with bars over the windows and door. He pushed a small, yellowing buzzer that allowed the shop keep to grant them entry. Wendy hesitated when he held open the door.

"What? Not pristine enough for you?" he mocked.

"It's not that." She shook her head.

"What? Afraid of someone seeing you?" he asked with a smirk. "Come off it, princess. I doubt any of your circle of friends ever comes to this side of town, anyway."

He had a point; Wendy could only count on one hand how many times she'd down that way and she was pretty sure it was when Kenny had needed a ride to his pot dealer. As a matter of fact, they might not be too far from Enrique's house at the moment, but that was beside the point. She wasn't truly sure why she was hesitant; there was really no reason for it. So she pulled her purse in closer to her body, drew in a shallow breath, and walked by him with all the poise and elegance she could muster.

Inside the shop was warm, which was a welcome change from the bitter air outside. The smell of heavily perfumed incense hung in the air like a blanket and engulfed her fully. Somewhere, someone was smoking a clove cigarette and playing Pink Floyd on a vinyl. It felt like she'd wandered into a small corner of heaven. She walked through the shop like she was in a dream, admiring the silver incense holders shaped like dragons and faeries. She brushed her fingers against a delicately painted orange and black faerie, admiring her tiger like eyes and sharp, abrupt wings.

"You like that sort of stuff?" Damien asked her, a note of surprise in his otherwise chilly words.

Wendy pulled her hand back and looked over at him.

"Oh? Yeah, it's alright."

She loved faeries. The whimsy and fluff of them made her long to sprout wings and take flight. He closed his eyes, cocked his eyebrows, and smirked.

"Sure." He opened his eyes again. "Come on. This way."

He led her towards the back, taking her through the hookah section. Wendy admired all the colorful glass devices and their many sprouting hoses. She read the different labels of sheesha on the back wall, becoming impressed with flavors such as "Irish cream" and "rose water". She would have liked a hookah; they looked so regal and inviting when set on the floor and surrounded by cushy pillows. But she couldn't afford such a thing and how out of character would it be to own one? Certainly she could only smoke with Kenny, and he'd never let it go that she actually bought one.

They approached the glass counter, which inside held small bowls one would use to smoke marijuana. She saw one with Winnie the Pooh on the handle from which you filled up the honey pot on the other end; she covered her hand to hide her chuckle. A thin, dingy looking man appeared from the back through a curtain of pink and gold beads. His bead was long and straggly, with thin strands of a vibrant gray shooting throughout. He looked at them through his sullen eyes.

"Can I help you?" he asked in a slow, hippie like voice.

"We need to see your lighters." Damien took charge of the conversation at once, leaving Wendy feeling uncharacteristically useless. "Your nicer ones."

The hippie showed them to a case further into the store, way in the back by where some of the naughty things were sold. Wendy saw a collection of unusual vibrators in the last case to her immediate left. She was disturbed and looked away when she saw a similar Pooh Bear design on one of them.

She was instantly absorbed in the collection of lighters. Long ones, square ones, some in every color and design. Some with characters, some with names, some with texture; she wanted to salivate in anticipation. She pressed her hands to the smudged glass like a hungry child in a candy store window.

"You have anything specific in mind?" the hippie asked her. It didn't take much to assume she was the one who was receiving the item.

"Something…classy." She said after mulling it over.

It would be fun to have something like a sexy smurfette or a vibrant, over stimulating multi-color zebra pattern, but she wanted something timeless. The lighters, judging by the looks of them, were good quality. It would be something that could endure over time and she might not be into zombies or Scooby doo patterns in a few years.

One in particular caught her attention. She'd studied all of them slowly, listening half heartedly as the hippie store clerk tried and failed to make conversation with the stoic Damien. The lighter her eyes had settled on was a plain, bronze colored one. It shone like chrome but the color promised to hide things like fingerprints better. It was thick and square, good for a quick flick or a slow burn. It looked like it could pack a punch; it looked like it was perfect. She jabbed at the glass above it with her pristine teal fingernail.

"That one." She urged and he unlocked the cabinet to fish it out for her.

She loved it the minute she held it. It's cold surface chilled her hot hands and she knew in that instant, it was meant to be.

"This is it." She looked at Damien, smiling fondly.

He nodded.

"Do you engrave?" he suddenly asked, tearing the bottom off of Wendy's Cloud 9 and sending her ass first back down into reality.

"Engrave?" she echoed, but was ignored.

"Yeah. Of course." The shop keep gently took the lighter back from her, rubbing it with a cloth to clean it.

"I want it engraved with her name." he crooked her thumbs at Wendy then turned and gave her a cheeky smirk. "So everyone knows it's yours."

She could have cut his eyeballs out. He gave her a slippery sort of smile that made her want to rip all his pearly whites out.

"It's not necessary." She said as the man began to move towards a fearful looking device.

"I insist." Damien rested a reassuring hand on her tense shoulder. "I wouldn't want you to lose it. Your last one was so generic."

"What's the name?" the man asked in his slow, easy voice.

"Wendy." Damien cut her to the chase.

"You don't have to—"

"W-E-N-D-Y."

The man got to work, placing her precious little lighter in the in a small handle and began to drill at it with the huge, humming instrument. Wendy felt a strange abandonment of all emotion; annoyance, anger, excitement, nerves…they all fled in a huff and left her standing there, hollow, as she watched her new lighter get the treatment. She could feel Damien watching her and she wondered if he was curious as to her blank expression.

After a few anxious seconds, the hippie handed her back the precious thing. She took it into her hands, cupping it delicately like it was a baby bird. She peered down at it with tenderness and she smiled faintly.

"Thank you." She was speaking to both of them. "It's….beautiful."

Her name had been done in a curve script, giving it a look of elegance and beauty. She felt her heart flutter like a small bird in her chest and she began to imagine using it over and over. She couldn't wait to see its flame.

She looked up in time to see Damien finishing his transaction, nodding off the older man and motioning for her to come along. She smiled at the hippie, who returned the kind gesture, and she followed him out into the cold once more. The warmth of the shop exhaled them into the night air, which instantly littered her skin with goose bumps.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

Wendy looked up and was surprised to see they had already walked a good part of the way back. Her thoughts had been so consumed with her lighter that her body had been operating on auto pilot.

"I love it." She told her, her numb lips pressing together strangely when she talked. "….the name wasn't necessary though."

"You need to learn to not be ashamed about your hobbies." He told her. She went to cut him off, but he persisted. "It's a passion; you make it very obvious."

"I think you read way too much into things." She told him shortly.

"Oh?" he stopped, turning to look at her. "I can take it back then, if you feel that way."

Wendy suddenly felt protective, taking a step away from him.

"That's no necessary." She said softly, unsure of how to act in the moment.

"That's what I thought." He sounded proud of himself. "Do you want to try it out on something? Light the virgin flame?"

Wendy couldn't help but smile at the term; she liked it. She nodded, fingering the lighter in her pocket.

"I know where we can get some dry wood." She told him, taking the lead. "Come on."

They had been gone from the house now for maybe an hour and a half. It had certainly been long enough for the moon to dye the sky an inky black. The stars had come out of their hiding spots and twinkled innocently in the sky; she could only see a few because of the heavy snow clouds overhead. She trooped through the moderately busy streets, having to stop only once for a yellow Jeep that didn't feel like yielding to the stop sign. Damien stayed close behind her, not appearing to be as cold as Wendy was. She had her hands tucked deep into her pockets with her face thrust up under her collar. He seemed content, walking with his head held high and looking around at the sleepy shops.

Wendy approached the old school yard cautiously, creeping around through the parking lot towards the back and the playground.

"School?" Damien asked, sounding surprised.

"Why not?" she asked. "Do you remember the old tree? It's dead now; we can break off some branches off."

"Interesting, that's where your mind went to." He remarked as they slunk through the crack in the fence to the back of the school yard.

The playground was eerie. There was a littering of very fresh snow on the ground, even with a few small footprints on the ground. The swings swung on their rusted hinges in the breeze, letting out low, creepy squeaks as if they were acknowledging the presence of their old friends. The jungle gym's colors had faded from years of dirty hands and rough sneakers. The slide was smaller than she remembered, with its rusty body and missing steps off the ladder. She looked up to the huge building, spotting only a single light on up near the left. Mr. Garrison's room, she smiled. How could she forget? Probably burning the midnight oil, or fucking a mister or madam over his desk. Both of which were strong possibilities.

They crept underneath the old tree and Wendy felt a wave of sadness for the mighty thing. She could remember a time when it was lively and full of leaves. She could remember climbing and laughing and swinging from its muscular arms, and now it was old and frail. Its muscles had given way to nothing but fragile bone and it's leaves had fallen, leaving it naked and skeletal. Even the way the wind whistled through the branches, giving a wailing sound that made Wendy think of someone who was sick and dying, breathing. Breathing in and out in shaky, mucusy whistles that hinted that death wasn't far off.

Damien reached up and pulled down a few thin branches, handing them to her.

"Have at it." He told her, being mindful of the light on in the school.

She looked down, hesitant at his hands.

"What?" he sounded impatient. "Shy?"

"No." she said defensively. "I just….I don't usually do this…"

"With someone else. I get it." He chuckled. "Don't worry, Sparky. I'm not judging."

"Don't call me that." She snatched the brittle branches from him. "I'm just doing this to break it in since you were nice enough to buy it for me."

Damien shrugged skeptically then looked over at her.

"You ever pop a virgin before?" he asked as Wendy turned the smooth surface of the lighter over in her palm a few times.

"Of course." She snipped in a snooty voice, as if it were the stupidest question she'd ever heard.

She flicked the heavy lighter open, letting its hot orange flame to spring forth for the first time. She watched it be born, forming in a miniature ball of gas and chemicals. Her lighter seemed to breathe it out, spilling it into her world and materializing in its full bodied glory. The heat of its small, newborn body poured over her face and Wendy glowed with it, feeling like a proud parent. Tenderly, she fed her child the branches and watched as they were devoured. The crackling as the wood cried out and it split from the sheer force of the heat. The flame was powerful; she had to drop the branch to the ground so it could finish consuming. She crouched over it, feeling peace, serenity, exhalation, and titillation all balled into one, unnamed passion. She watched as the branch quickly blackened and gave off a wispy, fragrant smoke.

It was over all too quickly. She and Damien sat in the cold dark, listening to nothing but the howling of the dying tree. Wendy looked up at it, watching the cloudy sky through its spider vein branches. Small, brown leaves clung in spots to its skeletal fingers like rings that had grown too large on a corpse's hand.

_Wheezy breath in, wheezy breath out. Death is close._

It creaked when the wind shuttered through it, as if it were calling out in a silent pain. It was too old, Wendy thought within her heart, it's too old and it's in awful pain. She saw the heavy etch marks of children's words in its trunk like old tattoos or faded stretch marks. So brittle, so frail.

_It's dying. It's in misery and it's dying. _

Wendy looked down at her lighter, her small giver of life and liberation. She knew what she had to do. She could hear Wendy asking her what she was doing, but she ignored him. She grabbed hold of the short trunk and yanked herself upward, settling in amongst the dead branches and leaves. She could almost feel a heartbeat, but it was faint and fleeting.

"Wendy?" Damien asked in a more demanding way. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Helping."

She began to run her lighter over the dead leaves above her, watching the catch flame instantly. She moved quickly, going from branch to branch and watching as the flame began to spread. She watched as it spiraled up the fingers and towards the sky, giving the black silhouette and fiery glow. She could feel the intense warmth on her, feeling small beads of sweat forming on her forehead and at the base of her neck. Her heart quickened as the crackling flames grew and began to inch towards her, as if crawling back to their mother. She leaned down to study them, her little ones, when something plucked her from the tree.

Damien had snagged her by her shirt and yanked her down before the flame could reach her seat.

"What were you thinking?" he asked, but he didn't sound angry.

She wasn't sure HOW he sounded. They both looked back up towards her creation and Wendy thought she saw him smile a little. The trees flames suddenly grew, puffing up in a burst of heat and color. Wendy caught the familiar scent of cinnamon for a moment, but she pushed it away. She only cared about the creation. The sizzling, crackles coming from her childhood tree seemed to be small thank you's.

"You're welcome." She said quietly, causing Damien to give her a strange look.

A sudden yelling came from the school house.

"What the FUCK? WHO'S OUT THERE?" It was Mr. Garrison's voice coming from the opened back door. "I'M CALLING THE POLICE!"

"Run." Damien ordered, grabbing her wrist and the pair began to flee.

Wendy looked back at her tree and felt a giddy sort of excitement and she began to laugh. It was a wild, howling sound that filled the night air like the birds of the morning. She shimmied over the school yard fence and the pair made their way to the safety of the surrounding forest. She jumped over logs, feeling the tugs of other branches pulling on her clothes, as if patting her on the back.

Good job Wendy, she imagined them telling her, you did the right thing. Smart girl. Good girl.

They tore through the foliage; somewhere in the distance, when could hear sirens. But she kept running, staying right behind Damien. He was easy to follow, even in the inky dark. He emitted a sort of…warmth. It was easy to sense and even easier to track.

They ran for a while; Wendy lost track of the exact time. They finally came to a clearing and she could see the back of her apartment complex from the bushes they were crouched in. Damien finally looked over at her, studying her face.

"What was that?" he asked her. He didn't sound the least bit out of breath.

"I….I wanted to….to help the tree." She hadn't realized how stupid she sounded. She was glad it was dark so he couldn't see the embarrassment. "I mean, it's only humane to help such a decrepit tree by returning it to the earth from whence it came, don't you think? Seemed like the responsible thing…"

She was blathering heaps of foaming bullshit and it was no secret to either party. Wendy stopped talking, letting her words fade into the smoke scented darkness.

"It was pretty impressive." He told her. "I didn't know you had it in you."

She could have defended herself, but she had no further words. She still felt the high, the jitter the fire had charged her with. She could pretend this never happened in the morning light, but right now, it was best to just ride it out.

"It's in a better place." She said offhandedly and then rose to her feet. Damien did the same. "The apartments are that way…..I should head home."

"It'll be better to walk alone, just in case someone is patrolling." He told her sternly.

"Yeah…well…..good night."

In a rushed decision, one she wasn't sure why she made, she stood on her tip toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. His skin was warm too, a welcome rush to her own frigid flesh. Damien jumped, surprised, but didn't tear away.

"What was that for?" he asked gruffly.

"I don't know." She told him honestly as she began to walk out of the forest. "Oh, and Damien? This night never happened."

She felt powerful and important, as if she carried all the cards in her hands. She began to sprint for her apartments, looking over her shoulder only once. But Damien was nowhere to be seen. She paused, confused, then traveled on, chalking it up to his face being lost in the thick dark.

After all, people don't evaporate into thin air, do they?

Wendy didn't go home. She kept walking past where she'd parked her car and traveling a full twenty minutes to Kenny's house. She wasn't sure why, but when her head was this foggy, she needed to talk. And since he was the only who knew about her "problem" he had become her unofficial therapist.

His neighborhood was dodgy, full of garbage and crying babies. She made her way up to his crooked house, listening to his parents screaming inside. She used the metal garbage cans for leverage, hoisting herself up to his window. She pushed on the smudged glass and it popped open easily.

"Ken?" she called within, closing it behind her.

"Wendy?" Kenny was in his pajamas; a pair of boxers and a form fitting undershirt. "What…what are you doing here? And what happened to your shirt?"

She looked down at her sleeve, only to find it had been sliced open at the shoulder and she was bleeding. But she didn't feel pain; she didn't even really care.

"I have to tell you…" she wasn't sure what she was going to tell him, but it would have to wait. The small bathroom door in his room opened and a figure appeared.

"So do I just use the window again? Or are your parents so blasted, they won't notice if I go through the front door?"

It was Craig, buttoning up his pants.

Wendy and Kenny exchanged looks and he chuckled with a blush.

Oh boy.


	6. Thin Ice

**Hey guys! So sorry for the delayed update! I've been so swamped with school it's been ridiculous! But I got it out for you :) I won't put it off any longer. Please enjoy and leave comments for me to be all giddy over :)**

**xoxo,**

**Mimi**

Wendy and Kenny waited until the sounds of drunken brawling had died down in the living room before the ventured downstairs to the kitchen. Mr. McCormick was passed out on the sofa, snoring loudly; his wife must have ventured off to the bedroom. They didn't take particular care to be quiet though; nothing could wake him when he was like this.

"We'll be lucky if he's up in time for happy hour tomorrow." He told Wendy as he went into the fridge, pulling out two large cans of PBR.

They sat at the small, dirty kitchen table and Wendy, as always, did her best to ignore the small creatures lurking in the shadows between appliances. The cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling and at the top of the fridge didn't even faze her anymore. This was just Kenny's home and she'd become accustomed to it.

Craig had left through the window right after Wendy had arrived. She and Kenny didn't speak of it until now, as they sipped their cold brews respectively.

"So." She started, running her finger through the condensation of the can.

"So." He repeated through a mouthful of starchy foam.

"Was this the first time?" she asked, lifting her eyes.

"With him you mean? Yeah." He smiled, sideways. "He called to check on me from the other night; apparently, he thought it was possible to have day's long hangovers."

"Or he just wanted to see you."

"That's what I was thinking." He nodded. "I told him to come over and to use the window. We talked for a while—"

"How long is a while?"

"Fifteen minutes, give or take." He said it with another smirk. "Then we kissed…"

"Who kissed who?" Wendy loved the juicy details. Perhaps it was from being friends with Bebe for so long, but she could never let a good piece of gossip lie.

"He kissed me." He told her proudly. "He's a gentleman…for the most part. And then…well….you know. He took off my pants and started to—"

"No details." She held her hand up to stop him. "I can use my imagination."

"But the details are the best part, kitten." He purred. "Don't you want to know who came first?"

"No Kenny." But she was laughing, nearly spitting her beer up as she did so. "So…now what? What happens with you two now?"

"No idea." He fingered the rim of his can, shrugging. "I mean….I don't know how he feels about continuing this, let alone dating. And…I'm not sure I want a "boyfriend". Don't know how it'll go over with that bastard."

He cocked his head into the living room where the snoring momentarily got louder.

"So now you care what they think?" she asked skeptically. "Is this the first time since like, fifth grade?"

"I don't." he told her then sighed. "Or I do. I don't know, Wendy. We'll see what happens. Right now, things are good the way they are. I'm happy, they're happy; why go rocking the boat?"

She nodded and they fell back into silence. He was watching her from across the table, following her movements with his dark eyes before he spoke.

"So." He stated.

"So." She repeated.

"….you don't ever come here for no reason." He told her. "What brings you to this snake pit in the middle of the night?"

"It's hardly the middle of the night." She said in a huff but then she looked up at the kitchen wall clock. It was nearly one AM.

"So?" he asked once more.

"I hung out with Damien tonight."

'Oh yeah?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "How was that?"

"Good." She nodded. "He broke my lighter on accident when I went to go get back my phone this morning."

Had it really only been this morning? It felt like an eternity ago.

"Oh damn. Did you rip his face off?" Kenny teased.

"No…but he felt bad enough that he offered to buy me a new one. He took me to the store and got me a really nice one."

She showed him, not wanting him to hold it but biting the bullet as he turned it over a few times in his large hands. He knew his best friend well enough to not hang on to it for long, handing it back when he saw her nervously drum her fingernails on the crusty table top.

"It's nice." He mused. "A lot nicer than the one you had before."

"He insisted on getting me a durable one." She told him, tucking it back down into her pocket, playing with it a little while it was safely out of sight.

"Is that all?" he asked skeptically.

"No…" she rolled her lips together. "…we burned a tree to the ground, maybe a whole playground."

"I see…wait…what?" he leaned across the table to get a better look at her. "You went firefly in front of someone?"

Going firefly had been Kenny's code name for her…..hobby. When she got a little crazy and a little obsessive, he called her the firefly. The nickname had just stuck.

"I don't think he fully understands what happened." She lied through a mouthful of beer. "And if he does, I'm going to play it off like it was a onetime deal."

"That's still big, Wendy." He told her, sounding truly impressed. "I don't think you've ever been a firefly in front of someone else besides me. And…it's kind of hard to play off destroying a tree. Where was this, by the way?"

"The elementary school." She said with a small snort of laugh. "Garrison was there."

"Yeah? Good. Maybe you scared the asshole." He grumbled, reminiscing on the old teacher. Kenny had never been a fan of anyone who'd offered him an education.

"Well either way." She shrugged it off like it wasn't anything important. "It's over with now; I'm just going to have to ignore him from now on. It sucks but…eh." She tried to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal. "I can't risk anybody else knowing."

'I think it might be too late for that." Kenny noted after he finished his beer.

"Maybe." She polished off hers as well. "Maybe."

The pair then went in the fridge, like they did maybe once a week, and poured the rest of the beer down the sink and tossed the empty cans into the recycling bin. His parents would be too hung over in the morning to remember whether or not they'd had THAT much the night before, feel guilty for their consumption, and not drink anything for a few days. It offered Kenny and his siblings some peace and the neighbors some quiet. As they ascended to the top of the stairs, Wendy spotted Karen's face peeking out from the crack of the door. She gave a small wave and the teenage girl gave her one back. Karen and Wendy got along just fine; Karen was soft spoken but smart. She hadn't received anything less than A's in her academic career. Wendy had all the faith in the world the girl would achieve what her other siblings had not been able to: a college career. She was going into her senior year this year and she was all bushy, dust colored hair and soft, feminine features that would eventually drive those college boys crazy when she figured out how to use them. She disappeared back into her room, quiet as a mouse, the only sound caused by her own Mysterion picture shaking on the outside of the door.

They shared a passion for the hero, too. Another thing Kenny poked fun at them for.

Wendy and Kenny curled up in bed together, like they had so many times before, and spoke in hushed voices.

"Gregory is taking me ice skating tomorrow." She whispered to him as he absent mindedly played with her hair.

"Yeah? Aren't you miss popular? I knew this was going to happen when you started following my fashion advice."

"It isn't like that." She frowned. "I don't think it is, anyway. At least not on my end."

"And why not?" Kenny almost laughed. "You're young , pretty, and you must have some sort of sex drive, right? Gregory is pretty good looking; I don't see what the big deal is."

"You know the big deal." She grumbled into his musky pillows.

Kenny dropped the topic after that. Somewhere in the distance, Wendy heard a wailing siren as she fell asleep. She woke not too much long after to find herself alone. Kenny's side of the bed was cold and unmade but in her half asleep trance, she decided he must have gone to the bathroom and tumbled back into sleep without a second thought.

Wendy didn't dream, at least she didn't feel like she did. But when she awoke to the bright sunshine coming in through dirty, smearing windows and thin, worn curtains, she found herself feeling confused and displaced. She could very fuzzily remember a fading face in the darkness of her mind. A pair of glowing eyes, the low roar of a horrible beast, some small blonde boy being crushed to death by a giant foot….

She rubbed her face as the memory (or dream) faded into static in the fuzz of her mind and melted into not even an afterthought. Wendy looked over at Kenny's shirtless form, snoring loudly beside her.

"Ken." She gave him a shake, jerking him awake.

"Huh?" His eyes had heavy gray lines under them, as if he hadn't slept at all. He gapped his chapped lips at her. "Wha' happened?"

"I'm leaving." She told him, squinting her eyes at him. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Doesn't feel it." He sat up, stretching his limbs out like a cat then winced.

Wendy noticed the gash on his upper arm instantly. The dried, dark blood clotted around the wound and she reached out towards him to touch it.

"What the hell did you do?" she asked, examining it.

Kenny looked at it, lifting his eyebrows in surprise.

"I didn't even feel that." He said gruffly.

"Hold still." She commanded and hurried into the bathroom to get some supplies.

It was a stereotypical boy's bathroom. The floor hadn't been cleaned in forever; the state of the tub was terrifying. There was a sole toothbrush and half squeezed tube of toothpaste beside it. The medicine cabinet had multiple boxes of condoms, a half empty container of speed stick and some axe. She grabbed the very old band aids and Neosporin she'd bought him who knew how long ago. She found a clean washcloth after rummaging through some laundry in the corner and wet it. She noticed, from the corner of her eye, bloody fingerprints on the corner of the countertop. She frowned, shutting off the water.

"Kenny?" she asked as she re-entered the bedroom. "Did you think maybe you hurt yourself in your sleep last night? There's blood in the bathroom."

"Maybe." He was sitting on the edge of the unmade bed now, waiting for his nurse. "You know I never remember when I do."  
It was true. Kenny was notorious for waking Wendy in the middle of the night with strange wounds and scratches. He had always hurt himself in his sleep somehow in ways none of them could comprehend, but it had been this way for as long as she'd known him. She could even remember Stan mentioning the habit before she and Kenny were very close.

"I really think you should sleep with mittens on." She told him, just like she did whenever this sort of thing happened. "It might help."

"I like wiggling my fingers." He told her, wincing when she wiped the wound down with the freezing water. "Careful, that's cold."

"The medicine is gonna sting so you better suck it up." She told him firmly, squeezing some ointment onto her fingers and smearing it on. "Stop being such a baby." She responded to his chorus of pained grunts.

She fixed him up, cleaning, sanitizing, and then putting on both band aids to cover it.

"All better." She told him, going into the bathroom to wash her hands.

"Thank you." She heard Kenny mutter as he followed her into the bathroom.

She laughed, smearing the foaming bubbles between her dirty, blood speckled hands.

"You're gonna have to learn how to do that yourself someday." She chastised as he checked his appearance in the spotty mirror.

"Why? I have a perfectly good nurse right here!" He gave her a kiss on the cheek before walking further into the bathroom.

"Yeah, but I won't always-Kenny!" she yelped as he wiped out his member and began to urinate into the grimy toilet.

"What?" he asked, annoyed. "I have to take a leak. You're the one in MY bathroom, you know."

"You're gross." She snipped, wiping her hands on the torn towel. "Hurry up and finish; I need to go."

She left the bathroom and gathered her things while Kenny finished up. He re-emerged, pulling on a gray t-shirt.

"Alright, let's get this over with." He mumbled, ruffling her hair as he walked by her.

They walked down the stairs and into the living room where the McCormick family was gathered. Stuart had been moved from the sofa to his bedroom, leaving nothing but rumpled pillows, a stained blanket, and a pair of dirty blue jeans. As they entered the small kitchen, Karen looked up at them from over the hardcopy of her newest library book and smiled pleasantly. She was dressed for school in her dingy light wash jeans and pale yellow sweater that made her eyes sparkled lividly. Kevin sat across from her, looking every inch the train wreck he'd grown into. He was twenty five, unemployed, and as much a drunk as his parents. He eyed her through his glossy hung over eyes and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Unlike his cleaned up sister, he was still in his pj's and still smelled like the bar from the night before.

"Morning guys." Karen squeaked pleasantly.

"Hey Wendy. Lookin' purdy this morning." Kevin winked at her and Wendy cringed.

"You kids havin' breakfast?" Carol was cooking away, smiling through her unusually red cheeks.

This was how it always was on mornings Kenny and Wendy got rid of the beer. The remorse was all over her face as she hurried to cook up eggs and some kind of overdone toast. Wendy assumed this meant the food stamps for the month had come in; this was a feast in the McCormick home.

"I have work in a couple hours so I can't stay." She said politely, still aware of Kevin's eyes on her.

"You're so responsible, Wendy." Carol mused in her southern drawl." Kenny is a lucky boy, I'll tell you what."

Kenny and Wendy exchanged affectionate smiles and, for good measure, Kenny grabbed her hand. It was a game they'd been playing for going on two years now. Kenny didn't like his parents knowing about his sexual escapades with this, that, and the other. It was easier to pretend Wendy was his girlfriend and they stayed off his back. It was also easier to explain away why she spent the night so frequently. Kenny walked her to the backdoor, giving her a kiss on the cheek and winking at her.

"I'll text you." He told her. "Have fun ice skating later."

"I will. Later." She adjusted her purse and hurried out into the cold, almost tripping over the lame cat that tended to hang out around their back door.

Sometimes, Wendy felt bad lying to Kenny's family. They had always been very kind to her and she had no reason to carry on such an illusion. But Kenny had repeatedly begged her to not drop it, not just yet. It was a pretty perfect set up for him, really. It left him with the license to do whatever he wanted without judgment. Every sleepover at a stranger's house could be explained away with the simple tossing around of her name. And it's not like there was ever the danger of her finding someone else; Wendy didn't date so their cover was as safe as it possibly could be.

As safe as it could be….

…for now.

Wendy looked down at her hands, making sure she'd gotten all of Kenny's blood off.

There was a knick in her nail polish.

Wendy brushed out her long hair, leaving it in a dark, frizzless wave down her back. It shimmered in a healthy way, staying pin straight all the way down to the middle of her spine. Her makeup was tasteful and minimal, giving her a natural look. She dressed in warm, violet skinny jeans and a snug, black sweater that wrapped her in a fuzzy cocoon of warmth. She pulled on her oversized black and grey boots that came half way up her calf. Throwing on a fluffy gray sweater and a long, dazzling silver necklace, she looked lovely. She had repainted her nails a matte beige color, which went with her winter colored ensemble. No more teal.

No more chips.

She transferred all her things to a small handbag that could be slung over her shoulder and tucked up into her underarm. She spritzed herself with a floral perfume, causing her to summon an heir of spring even on this cloudy, snowy evening. She examined herself in her full length mirror, straightening her shoulders and flashing her rows of vibrant white teeth.

She jerked a little in remembrance. She'd almost forgotten her ice skates!

She dove into her closet, rummaging and digging through old shoe boxes and under stacks of unworn summer clothes and thick ski jackets. There, in an oversized, discolored white box were her skates. They were a pale purple, her favorite color, with still vibrant laces. She ran a delicate finger on the flat, gleaming side of the bottom, away from the blade and admiring her own reflection. It was slightly distorted and made it look like she had a caveman forehead. She tore her eyes away and tucked the skates back into their box, ready to travel with them.

She carried her things to the living room, making sure she went over her mental check list once more in her mind. She had everything that she needed for the evening. At least if there was anything she was missing, she couldn't think of it. She packed up her things and loaded up her car, humming cheerfully. It didn't feel quite as cold tonight; maybe It was the heavy jacket she'd pulled over her body but still. Wendy was comfortable and warm, which rarely happened.

The drive to Stark's Pond was not a far one. She could do it on foot with her eyes closed; she'd been there so often in her lifetime. She could remember being young, walking with Red and Bebe with her ice skates tied together and slung over her shoulder. It was a happy place with warm, welcome memories.

She parked in one of the sparse parking spots within walking distance. It was surprisingly empty for such a pleasant evening; usually there were a great number of families and couples gliding around on it. She was actually surprised the pond had frozen over so early on in the season. It was going to be a very cold winter.

She sat down on a bench as a little girl and boy ran by her, screaming and laughing. She began to tie her skates on her small feet, watching as unsteady bodies wobbled around on the ice before it. It's surface glimmered in a colorless shine that seemed like smile up at the visitors. Small snow flurries landed on Wendy's warm cheeks and she shivered.

Yes, it was going to be a very cold winter.

Wendy looked out at the frozen water, letting her mind wander. The noise of the background faded and she remembered being a child, skating and laughing. She could remember holding Stan's mitten covered hand. She remembered how he always smelled faintly like scented markers and peanut butter at that age. She could remember small, innocent smiles and swirling around in circles, laughing and screaming like those other children were. That was how she liked to remember Stan; Happy. Peaceful.

That was the way her heart chose to keep him.

Another strange memory surfaced in fuzzy foam, not unlike many had been doing the past few days. In her mind, she could see a young Stan and Kyle. She could smell vomit; she was hearing a high pitched voice talking about aliens and anal probes and little Ike. She frowned. Anal probes? What a silly daydream…no…she closed her eyes.

No, she remembered this; it wasn't nothing. She could remember tying Cartman…to a tree? Yes, that sounded like something she would endorse. She could remember hiding in the bushes, still the smell of puke being highly prominent. And then…she could see lights. Bright, shining lights in the sky like a starship. She could remember being dazzled and breathe taken…

"Wendy?"

Gregory was standing over her, smiling and holding his own skates. She shook her head, suddenly embarrassed by the blank, gapping expression on her face. She flipped it into a huge smile.

"Sorry" she managed a laugh. "I was thinking."

"Too hard?" he asked her with a charming sarcasm as he sat down beside her, putting on his own skates.

"Very funny." She gave him a playful shove and they laughed together.

"I'm excited." He told her as he quickly strapped his feet up. "I haven't been skating in so long. And with such good company, too! This should be excellent!"

"I should think so. That is, if you can keep up with me." She taunted playfully, managing to her feet.

Walking or standing in ice skates was not an easy task. She fought to keep her balance, to keep from toppling over sideways. Gregory was up beside her and grabbed her by the arm.

"We shall see about that." He bantered playfully. "Do you need help walking?"

"I've got it." She assured him in a coo as she wobbled out to the water.

She almost fell when a small girl ran underfoot, knocking into her gently then scuttling with a half hearted "sorry". Wendy finally reached the water and glided out onto it with ease. It was like a fish taking to water, becoming a part of it as naturally as if she were breathing. She glided backwards, watching as Gregory joined her. He had a certain pose to his form as well. His arms were tucked behind his back as he took powerful strides with his long legs. Wendy herself moved with the grace of a ballerina, her posture perfectly straight and practiced. She did a small twirl, jumping into the air and spinning around like a leaf spinning towards the ground. She landed in perfect form, spreading her legs and forming a small circle. Gregory skated beside her, smirking.

"You really cans skate!" he said, impressed. "You're very good, my dear."

"Lots of practice." She told him with her softest smile. "I used to love ice skating when I was a kid."

"So you've mentioned."

They glided around the pond, side by side, putting the children there to shame. They watched in amazement and Wendy felt like they were celebrities. She became playful, stopping short and putting her skates out sideways, sending out a spray of ice at a few small kids watching. They all laughed and cheered as she hurried away, making circles and other shapes in the ice. She did a figure eight, just to show off, which left a pair of seven year olds in applause.

"Look at you, show off." Gregory leaned in next to her, speaking softly. "Watch this."

He went out to the middle of the ice, leaping and twirling like a professional. Wendy heard a few surprised, impressed gasps as he landed easily. Wendy matched his trick, hoping her much more wobbly landing didn't read off as such, but the kids were still clapping so she wasn't too worried.

This back and forth went on for about a half hour or more, jumping and twirling and spinning and skidding around like a couple of children. Their audience formed on the rim of the pond; faces with wide, impressed eyes and excited hands clapped and cheered with every move they made.

The pair pulled off the ice and back towards the bench. Their cheeks and noses were pink from cold and their legs were throbbing from the rigorous workout. Wendy collapsed down onto the bench, smiling vibrantly.

"Alright…let's just call it a tie." Gregory suggested as he placed himself beside her.

"Deal." She nodded. "I haven't done so much since I was little."

"It's definitely been a while. And I think it's safe to say I've never had a fan club." He chuckled as couple of the kids walked by, waving enthusiastically.

"Definitely." She stretched out her arms. "I was fun though; I'm glad we came."

"Me too."

Wendy silently scratched at her head then spoke slowly.

"I've been thinking a lot about my memory problems." She told him.

"Oh?"

"I think maybe I should try and focus more energy into remembering things." She told him. "I mean…I could be missing out on some really good stuff. Or maybe I don't remember for a reason, you know?"

"There's no telling until you remember." He told her plainly but then he cocked an eyebrow. "But…do you really WANT to remember? It is the past….maybe it's better off left there?"

"Like you said, I won't really know until I remember….if I remember." She corrected herself. "There's no telling if I will or not. It was a really long time ago, you know? And who knows how much of it would be real memories and how much would be silly little kid stuff. You know how they make things up."

"I don't think any of it would be made up." He told her seriously, then looked over at her with a blissful placidity. "I envy you, Wendy. There's much I'd like to forget."

"But at least you have a choice." She pointed out. "You can choose to remember or choose to push those memories away. I don't have that luxury for whatever reason. Besides…what could be so bad that you wouldn't want to remember?"

Gregory laughed, sounding as light as the breeze.

"You'd be surprised the things you can see and immidately wish you hadn't witnessed." He sighed heavily. "Take what you have for what it is, Wendy; a gift. Really truly; something to be treasured. So." He continued. "Have you spoken much with your phantom Damien lately? Any more delightful stories about the, what did you call him, an asshole?"

Wendy blushed a little at the language she'd used.

"Yeah I saw him last night." She paused, not wanting to relay the story verbatim. "He apologized and we hung out at my house. He's not so bad. I shouldn't have judged him so quickly."

"I see." Gregory nodded his head along. "But he's not as cool as me, right?"

Wendy rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Of course not. I don't even think that's humanly possible."

"Oh good. Alright, I'm hungry. May I treat you to dinner?" He stood, now wearing his thick soled brown boots. With his signature khakis and that vibrant orange jacket, he looked every inch the heartthrob the girls at work swore he was.

"Treat me?" Wendy shook her head. "I'll go with you, but I can pay for myse-"

"Nonsense." He insisted, pulling her to her feet now that she was free of her tight skates. It would seem her feet had grown just enough since high school that the skates were just a little more than uncomfortable. "I invited you out so it's my pleasure. I insist. Now…where did you park? You can follow me."

Wendy sighed, knowing arguing would be futile. So she allowed him to walk her to the Corolla and then followed him out to the local pizza place. They had just opened up a Mellow Mushroom where the Bennigan's had once been. They ordered garlic balls and beers and a mushroom and garlic pizza with stuffed crust. Wendy ordered herself a humble side salad in order to keep herself from over indulging on the carby goodness spread out in front of her like a banquet for a queen.

"You're so good with your eating habits." Gregory mused as he swallowed another garlic ball down like it was a pill.

"I try." She said, eyeing a piece of discarded cheesy crust like it was made of gold. "It isn't always easy."

"Well your efforts aren't in vain." He assured her. "You look marvelous, Wendy….if I do say so myself."

"Thanks." She said humbly, trying not to blush from the compliment.

She watched in amazement as Gregory packed all the food away, with the exception of the pizza slice she'd indulged in, crust and all. It had been beyond marvelous. She cocked her eyebrows at him as he casually laid some cash down for the bill.

"Where do you put it all?" she asked in amazement.

Gregory lifted his arms, giving a casual flex.

"Right up here." He said playfully, although he did have a generous amount of muscle. Wendy bit her lip. "I store all my food up here."

"I can tell." She said, trying to pass her tone off for mild impressments rather than drooling admiration.

"I'm glad someone appreciates my hard work." He said as they exited the warm, fragrant restaurant and went back out into the cold. "My, I'm stuffed."

"Me too." Wendy lied with a smile. "Thank you so much for the meal, Gregory. Next time it'll be my treat."

"The treat was all mine, my love." He said affectionately. "Having such a lovely woman dine with me is all the treat I need."

"Oh stop." She said with a shy chuckle.

"Wendy?" Gregory asked as they approached her car. "I have something to say so…bare with me."

Wendy felt a stab of worry but held her tongue, nodding for him to continue.

"I've moved around much in my life." He told her, his voice full of emotion and a passion she remembered him having. "I've known and lost many people in that time and it amazes me how kind you've been to me, even being physically distant for so long and I….I wanted to thank you. I guess what I'm trying to say is…I'm glad you're here and I hope we can become closer."

His voice and face were genuine. He sparkled with affection and a kindness that she wanted to curl up inside of and believe. But there was something in his eyes, something she couldn't fully trust. Her gut told her to keep her guard up, that there was foul play afoot ad she needed to be on alert. But she disregarded it, playing it off to her own defensiveness manifesting into a false sense of treachery.

"I hope so too." She said, hugging him tightly to her. "I really do."

He hugged her back just as tight and planted a small kiss atop her head.

"I'll see you around then?" he asked hopefully. "Perhaps we can arrange for eat lunch this weekend?"

"I'd like that." She nodded with a smile.

"Excellent. Drive say, Wendy. Do text me when you arrive home?"

She nodded, promising him she would and then waved him off as he loaded into his white Lexus. He was out of the parking lot by the time she situated herself, pulling away from the restaurant feeling oddly light and still hungry.

The drive home was slow and lazy. Wendy felt no rush as she passively waited at each stoplight, drumming her fingers along to the music on the radio. She hummed under her breath, inching down the dark, quiet streets. Like clockwork she could almost count the lights at the houses going out, one by one. She drove by Damien's a little slower, looking up at it like she always did. No eerie feeling tonight; the house looked empty and still. Was he home? She thought of texting him but what for? She had nothing to say.

After last night, she wasn't sure what TO say. Her secret was all but completely out of the bag and there was nothing she could do to hide it. Despite her best efforts, she only had two options. Either she did what she originally intended and pretend it never happened OR she could decide to allow Damien in as her fire buddy. She'd never had one before. The idea sent shocks of thrill and fear through her body like bolts of lightning.

It wasn't an option. She couldn't let him get into this, into her secret, any deeper. Any deeper and….he just couldn't know any more. There was so much…..she was gripped the wheel so hard, her knuckles ached. She let go, flexing her sore fingers so the pain would cease.

Wendy was baffled when she found a motorcycle parked in her usual spot. To her memory, she couldn't remember that spot ever being taken by somebody other than herself. She pulled into the one beside it, still staring at the gleaming black bike. It shone underneath the flickering streetlight dangerously, like some kind of sleek, metal beast. It was well worn judging by the indented leather seat and the worn down handles. Its owner was an avid rider or so it appeared. Wendy got out of her car, walking around the newcomer curiously. The wheels were dirty with mud and discolored snow, still fresh. Whoever it was hadn't been here long. Probably someone visiting someone else in the building, she assumed. Someone who didn't know better. She had half a mind to push the thing to the ground and reclaim her territory, but the vehicle seemed to have an ominous nature and she feared that if she touched it, it might strike at her.

"W-Wendy?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun on her heel, nearly loosing balance, and found Butters standing not too far off. Sometimes she forgot the awkward little boy lived only a street or two over. He'd even been over when she first moved in to help her with some of her appliances. Butters, while still short and sandy haired, was unusually handy with appliances and other little things. He'd even made a side job out of it, helping people fix their odds and ends. He may have been a little strange, but he was helpful at least.

"Hey Butters." She said with a laugh. "You scared me."

"Oh….real sorry!" he apologized gushingly. "Geez Wendy, you looked like you saw a real ghost or ookie spooky!"

"I thought for a minute I did." She said with a laugh. "What're you doing here?"

"Helping ole' Doctor Mephesto move into his new retirement condo. You….you remember him? Nice ole' guy now….kinda weird, obsessed w-with butts." He chuckled a little boy laugh.

"Mephesto?" Wendy did remember him. "How weird….where has he been all these years? I haven't thought of him since grade school…"

"Me neither! Plum forgot all about him!" he laughed in his weird, squirrely way. "He still lived up on that creepy hill with that scary little guy who kinda looks like him." Butter gave a wiggle of dislike. "Scary the juice outta me. But yeah…he's living here now. You oughta visit him sometime; he's awful lonely now that Terrance is in jail."

"That kid we went to school with?" she asked. "Yeah, I kind of remember him. What'd he do?"

"Tried to off somebody I heard." Butters shrugged innocently. "Ain't no telling. He was always kinda loose in the head though. Anyway, I've got to get going. I'll be back tomorrow to keep helping with moving in. If you're free, you should come by! He's full of old stories; he's a real hoot to reminisce with."

"You mean about when we were kids?" she asked eagerly.

Butters didn't seem to notice her suddenly wide eyes and nodded happily.

"Oh yeah! He remembers a whole buncha stuff! Guess he was around cuz of Terrance and all that."

"Of course." She said thoughtfully then flashed him her most perfect smile. "I'll bring over a tray of cookies and welcome him to the neighborhood!"

"Gee Wendy, that's awful nice! You make the best baked treats; I used to love buying your brownies at the bake sales at school!" Butters overflowed with compliments. "I bet he'll love that for sure! I'll see you tomorrow then!"

They waved each other off and Wendy felt her brain begin to process and formulate. Mephesto…yes, she could see him vividly in her mind's eye now. That odd Hawaiian shirt, that odd cane with the butt for a handle, that funny hat; he was certainly a man that would be hard to displace in your thoughts. He had a flare for the unusual, if she remembered correctly. Maybe he'd know something….yes, maybe.

Wendy was in her pajamas and in her warm bed within fifteen minutes of arriving home. She took her new lighter, cradling it in her palms like it was a precious gem and used it to give light to the wicker of a large sandalwood candle she had from bath and body works. The smell was oddly comforting; it smelled like the flames from the night before. She lay down, watching the flame dance around like a sad, soundless dancer. Like an old friend, its small wispy arms would extend towards her, as if to ask her to join in the dance.

One day, Wendy would think, one day I will. She wasn't sure where that thought came from, but it was a comforting one.

The warmth of the flame was enough to make her cheeks and forehead tingle just a little bit. It was relaxing, calming, and soothing to her torrential mind. Her eyes travelled past the flame for just a minute at her large window and its bay seat. Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep or nightmares plagued her, she'd curl up there and seek slumber while she waited.

She was never sure what she was waiting for. A part of her thought one day, Mysterion might land on her window sill and offer to take her away to a life of safety and acceptance. He would save her, like he'd saved so many others. Oh yes, she'd waited many a night for him and she was sure she would wait many more.

But Wendy's were used to waiting for phantom heroes. Heroes that came in the middle of the night to take them away. Hadn't her namesake waited for a never aging boy to take her off to a fairy land?

Yes, Wendy was no stranger to waiting. But, just like many had done before her, despite her wishes, she didn't live in a fairytale. There was no magic for her and no boy to save her from a fate of monotony and hiding behind a fake smile and a pretty lighter.

But her gut whispered to keep waiting and for whatever reason, that was what she did. Almost every night, actually. She waited. Wendy listened to the whistling of the wind outside and it comforted her, bringing enough peace to finally close her eyes.

Before she could completely tumble into sleep, she blew out the candle, leaving behind a puff of fragrant smoke. In the sudden dying light, Wendy thought she saw a face in her window. She thought she saw the vibrant eyes of her hero, or the dark eyes of a villain. She could have sworn that through the little red dots of dying fire that flew into the still air, she saw someone else.

Wendy was not alone tonight.

But she was asleep suddenly, just as she placed her head back down, and didn't know if she was dreaming or not. There was no telling.


	7. Release the Hounds

**Hello darlings! I am SO sorry for the delayed update! As I've mentioned before, I'm a junior in college and this semester really became heavy! Anyway, I should be able to post more in the next few weeks so stay tuned! I promise you won't be sorry! So please-comment and enjoy!**

**xoxo,**

**Mimi**

The house smelled like sweets.

The lingering aromas of cinnamon and chocolate and sweet, decadent dough intermingled in the air and created a delicious sensation to breathe in. Wendy had been up early, unable to sleep anymore. She had grown weary of fighting off the nightmares and had taken to cooking instead. Wendy had been at the farmer's market right on the edge of South Park when they opened their rickety gates and she'd gotten first pick of the fresh supplies.

On one tray, cooling, she had whipped up some oatmeal raisin cookies. The oats were sweet with cream and vanilla while the fruit was plump and juicy. On another tray was a tin of chocolate cinnamon bread, a recipe she'd brewed up on her own. The loaf was rich and moist with a spicy, aromatic crust that could make anyone's knees weak. There was also a rack of cooling chocolate chip cookies, thick and golden brown. They were fat with huge chocolate morsels; Wendy used a variety of milk, semi, and dark chocolate to give the flavor depth and complexity. Her chocolate chip cookies were famous, but not quite as much as her brownies, which were just now coming out of the oven.

They were gooey and rich, the kind that made you gasp and moan in pleasure with you ate. She added homemade fudge to the recipe, giving them the sort of sweetness that coated your mouth in pure ecstasy. She had a bowl full of homemade vanilla almond butter cream to smear on top once they were cool enough. At bake sales back when she was class president, nothing sold out faster than her brownies did. Not even Jimmy's mom's famous blueberry muffins or Tweek's mocha raspberry bars. She'd had someone give her fifteen dollars when there was only one left. It was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, one of her proudest achievements.

"I can't have just one?" Kenny whined like a sad dog, eying the cookie tray with a fiery desire.

"Not a single one." She said in a sing-songy way. "Do you think I should make the snickerdoodles? It'll take me no time at all and I don't have never many chocolate free options.."

"Wendy, this is a "welcome to the neighborhood" gift, not a "I'm thinking of opening a bakery, want me to convince you" sales pitch." Kenny poked the corner of a cookie with his finger ."But if it means I can have one of these bad boys, then by all means."

Wendy rolled her eyes and waved him off, giving silent permission as she gathered the ingredients necessary for her last batch. The cookie was gone, as was a huge dollop of frosting, when she turned back around.

"Good?" she asked and Kenny nodded with a muffled "yeah" through his stuffed mouth.

"Orgasmic." He swore. "I swear Wendy, you're going to make a man fat and happy one day."

Wendy smiled as she whisked together the homemade dough.

"We'll see." She said simply. "You know what they say: The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"And if that doesn't work, there's a zipper in that front that takes you through a fun short cut." Kenny winked as he chuckled through a mouth of food.

"Ew! Kenny!" She swatted him with her dirty wooden spoon and the blonde howled with laughter, almost choking on his sweets.

Wendy made quick work of finishing her baking and then changing in a short, turquoise skirt with a modest white blouse. She wanted to look as sweet and presentable as possible. If she was going to get any information out of Mephesto, she was going to have to milk being adorable as hard as she could. People were more willing to tell her what she wanted to hear if she came off as sugary sweet as possible.

"Isn't it a little nippy for a skirt?" Kenny asked as she re-emerged from her bedroom, loading the treats into Tupperware to transport.

"Maybe. Since when do you have a problem with a woman in a skirt?"

"Since she's wearing it to go visit some crazy old man in the cold in it." He rose, helping her load up the plastic containers. "I don't really see the point of this, Wendy."

"You don't think it's strange that none of us really remember anything?" she asked him with a frown. "That we all, collectively, can't recall little details about ANYTHING before middle school? If this guy can tell us stuff, maybe the rest will all come out of hiding."

"Have you ever considered" he reached out, putting a hand on hers to pause her. "that maybe we all don't remember things for a reason?"

Wendy stopped, giving him a wary look.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe something really traumatic happened." He pointed out carefully. "And we all have it hidden in our psyches somewhere where it can't hurt us. You really wanna be the one responsible for uncovering that?"

"Oh come on Kenny." She popped the opaque red lid down on the last unsealed container. "What're the odds of that happening?"

"Probably about the same as a group of kids collectively forgetting chunks of their life."

Wendy ignored that last part and pushed some of her baked goods into her arms. The pair ushered out the front door into the cold morning air. There was the beginning of frost forming on Wendy's windshield and all the other cars in the parking lot. The icy wind broke against her bare legs and she twitched in pain, trying to not let it show in her face. Kenny already had the stoic look of someone who didn't approve of their activity for the day, she couldn't give him the sadistic satisfaction of being right as well.

They made their way to the other side of the complex and down to the ground floor. Wendy rapped on the door once with her purple wool glove covered hands. Before she could retract her arm, Butter's face appeared in the door way. He had that big stupid grin on his face and his piggy little eyes bulged in excitement at seeing them both there.

"Heya fella's!" he said cheerfully, motioning for them to come inside. "I was startin' to think you weren't coming!"

"I got caught up making some treats for you guys!" Wendy said as polished as she possibly could.

She held them out to the blonde boy whose face ignited in the same way a child's does at Christmas.

"Terrific!" he said enthusiastically. "Mr. Mephesto is gonna be pleased as punch! Here- take off your boots and come on in. He'll be so happy he has guests!"

Wendy stepped out of her pale blue flats while Kenny wrestled out of his dirty sneakers. The floor was made up of a patchy pale blue carpeting that must have been put down in the 90's or so. The walls were a funny shade of far-too-light yellow and, from what she could see, the whole kitchen was done in a dark wood paneling. It wasn't very modern, she'd give it that, but it did have a bit of charm to it. She was grateful her apartment hadn't looked like this when she'd moved in though. There were a few boxes scattered here and there, as to be expected during a move-in. Most of the things laying around, however, were Butter's tools and suppliers for fixing and putting it together. Mephesto hadn't even lived there 48 hours yet, but there was already that lingering aroma of the elderly. The smell reminded Wendy of urine, baby powder, and sadness. She could remember visiting her grandma in the nursing home years ago and the same smell followed the tenets around like a looming shadow.

Wendy wondered if that's what death smelled like.

"Reeks in here." Kenny whispered in her ear.

She swatted him hard in the chest as they followed Butter down the narrow, cluttered hallway.

"Shut up." She threatened. "Or I'm not buying you dinner later."

Kenny motioned like he was zipping his mouth up and tossed the invisible key over his shoulder. Wendy shook her head but remained quiet as Butter's lead them into the small sitting room on the other end of the spacious apartment.

The apartment wasn't set up like Wendy's. The nicer, bigger units were on the bottom floor and she knew some of the floor plans were flipped. In her home, one entered directly into the sitting/dinning room area and took the hallway to the bedroom. Here, it appeared you entered through a small hallway which lead to the kitchen and then to the hallway, which lead to the other rooms. The small sitting room was sunny and bright, still filled with packed boxed. The only thing that had been opened, it seemed, was a huge box of books that was sitting at the old man's feet.

Mephesto was a heavy man with naturally tanned skin. His hair, or what was left of it, was a mixture of frosty white and pepper gray. Age spots speckled the parts of his scalp where follicles no longer took root. His face wasn't heavily wrinkled, which surprised Wendy. He had unusually youthful eyes that scampered across the page of his book as he devoured every word in hungry eagerness. Butters cleared his throat and the old man looked up, annoyed.

"Mr. Mephesto, your neighbors are here to see you!" Butters gestured at the pair. "Do you remember these guys? They brought you a whole ton of goodies to munch on too!"

"Of course I do." He looked over at Kenny, giving a deep nod. "Kenny McCormick as I live and breathe. Look at you; you made it adulthood."

"Just barely." He stepped forward, shaking Mephesto's hand.

There was something in Kenny's eyes Wendy had never seen before. A serious, reserved look of distrust and careful watchfulness. They shook hands, the young man and burley old one, in a tight clasp and deadlocked eyes. Wendy found herself holding her breath in anxiety and only inhaled when Kenny took a step back.

"And whose this?" Mephesto leaned forward, wrinkling his bright yellow Hawaiian shirt.

"Hello Mr. Mephesto." Wendy said brightly. "I doubt you remember me. I'm—"

"Wendy Testaburger." He said with a nod, smiling a little. "My. It's been a long time, child. I see the puberty fairy has been gracious with you."

Wendy felt her cheeks flush bright, hot red.

"I can't even remember the last time I've seen you." She changed the subject briskly.

"I can." He said with some ice in his voice.

A stab of hope jabbed Wendy in the heart and she kept speaking.

"Oh really?" she asked enthusiastically. "When was that? I-"

"Did you mention sweets, Scotch?" he barked out to Butters.

"Oh yes, lots of them!" Butters nodded. "Look! They brought you boatloads of them!"

"I need to try one of those cookies. I can smell the diabetes all the way from here." He motioned at them to sit as Butters got a napkin Wendy could put the cookie on.

The old man chewed contently as the rest sat in an uncomfortable silence. Kenny was emitting stiff vibes that troubled Wendy, but she said nothing.

"So…my neighbors, huh?" he asked in between mouthfuls. He didn't talk and chew at the same time like a barbarian."You live together then? Dating? Engaged?"

"Oh! No no." Wendy assured him. "I live here. Kenny's just my best friend. He visits a lot so I'm sure you'll see plenty of him too."

"Oh goody."

Wendy sensed the sarcasm in his words without even trying.

"So you kids in school?" he asked, lifting another chocolate chip cookie from the box.

"I am." Wendy nodded.

"What're you studying?"

"Psychology." She said with a pleasant smile. "I hope to be working with children."

Another perfectly practiced, automated response.

"You should go into culinary arts." He waved the cookie at her. "These are fantastic."

Wendy almost said something, but didn't. She'd long time dreamed of owning her own bakery somewhere, creating sugary creations full of masterful skill and intense vision. But it wasn't a dream her parents approved of and had been stashed somewhere in the back of her mind along with her other failed ventures.

"I'm going to be an accountant!" Butters piped up.

"Sure you are." Mephesto said half heartedly. "And you, Kenny?"

"Not in school." He said, picking at an uneven seam in the sofa's cushion. "Just focusing on the growing up part."

Mephesto nodded, wiping his face with the napkin and reached for a brownie. Wendy noticed a pale, off white scar slithering along the base line of his jaw up into his left cheek. She didn't realize she was staring until Mephesto called her out.

"You studying my road map, sweetheart?" he asked with a small smile.

"Oh!" Wendy was suddenly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry! I just don't remember you having a—"

"I haven't always." He cut her off, licking some chocolate off his pudgy finger. "No, that one is fairly recent. Well, recent for an old fart like me. Probably in the past six years or so. I got it from Mysterion."

Both Wendy and Butters lit up in excitement; Kenny continued to sulk and looked off towards the door.

"You've met him?" Butters asked excitedly, leaning towards him.

"I have." He nodded. "Came to my lab one night, real late, and demanded for me to fix him. He can't die you know. They say he's cursed."

"Doesn't sound like much of a curse to me." Wendy said dreamily. "But I'd bet that's true. I bet that's why he's so fearless."

"Probably." Butters chimed in.

Somewhere behind her, Kenny muttered curse words of annoyance under his breath. Wendy could have sworn she saw Mephesto's lips twitch into a little smile at the corner of her eye, but never turned to get a full look.

"So he wanted you to make him normal?" Wendy guessed; the old man nodded. "Why did he think you could do that?"

"Why would he WANT that?" Butters added. "I sure as golly would love it if I wasn't able to die."

"Everybody has their burden, kid. Don't judge it until you've carried it on your own back." Mephesto jabbed his old cane in Butters' direction. The blonde boy leaned back with big eyes.

Wendy noted he still had the old cane he had when she was a girl; the knob was rusted and discolored these days, but was still quite obviously shaped like a perky rump.

"He did seek me out." Mephesto nodded and spoke softly as if speaking to his thoughts. "But I couldn't help him. You see, I used to dabble in all kinds of experiments. One that left me with a similar disfigurement."

"Similar?" Wendy asked and she saw Kenny turn his head in curiosity.

"But I won't get into that now." He waved them off. "Either way, long story short, the brat didn't wanna take no for an answer and we had a spat….he's a hard headed little shit."

"Poor Mysterion." Butters said sadly.

"Poor Mysterion nothing." Kenny grumbled. "What a crock of shit."

"Kenny!" Wendy gasped and looked over her shoulder, red faced, at Mephesto.

The older man didn't seem the least bit phased. He continued to snap in a comfortable silence, as if he hadn't even heard Kenny. Wendy gave her friend a venomous glare, one that threatened silence or devious action would be taken. She saw him press his lips hard together, tension lines gathering on his forehead and he crossed his arms, leaning back and saying nothing further.

"I think I'm gonna get back to work on your sink, M-Mr. Mephesto." Butters rose to his feet and nearly hit his head on the low laying, slow moving ceiling fan.

"Take a brownie before you do." He gestured at the Tupperware. "I swear, you eye girls the way you've been eyeing these desserts, you'd have no trouble getting some."

Wendy sat up straight, folding her hands in her lap and speaking in her sweetest voice. It was the same voice she used whenever she had a job interview or when she was addressing the student council when she was class president. Or whenever she was speaking to a customer at the restaurant. Or when she was calling either of her parents.

Just about every occasion, now that she was thinking about it.

"What would you like me and Kenny to do?" she asked with a smile. "We're up for anything!"

She thought she heard Kenny mumble a "we?" from behind her, but she sent such icy vibes in his direction, she froze anything else he had to say.

Mephesto eyed her strangely and Wendy felt a small, unexplainable tremor of uncertainty move through her like a shiver. The thought bloomed inside of her that perhaps he knew something and was searching her to see if she did too. He finally leaned back on the sofa, frowning so hard that he had an extra jowl crinkle.

"Clean." He said roughly. "This place is a pig's sty. And I need help unpacking; the Scotch boy is clever, but he gets confused putting things away. But I'm not paying you, so if that's why you're lurking around…"

"Money never crossed my mind." She swore.

Again, she sent out a chilly mental vibe her best friend's way so he'd keep any comments to himself. She could almost feel his words getting ready to leave the warm, sarcasm breeding ground that was his dank little mouth.

"I'll get started on the front room right away." She hopped up to her feet and grabbed Kenny by the arm as she walked by his chair.

She yanked him up with an abnormal amount of strength and tugged him out into the hall with her. She let go of him with a sudden force that caused him to take a step back. He went to speak but she held up a finger, signaling for him to hold on. She paused, breathlessly as her temper stewed inside, and only spoke when she heard the television in the other room come back to life.

"What is WRONG with you?" she asked fervently. "You're acting like an ass!"

"You'd think that guy would be into that kind of thing…"

"Kenny!" she sighed, rubbing her face so hard, she left small red marks in her wake. "You know this is important to me, don't you?"

He sighed heavily, scratching at his wild, light locks.

"I know." He snarled under his breath. "I'll….behave."

"Promise?" she held out her pinkie.

"Promise." He interlocked his own around hers and pulled it to his mouth, kissing their hands to seal the deal. "But I'm only coming over here _once. _Don't start thinking I'm going to be visiting this windbag with you every day."

"You just don't like him because he was talking about Mysterion."

"Whatever."

And for the next week, that was exactly what Wendy did. Every day, either before or after school and work, she was over helping Butters with Mephesto. She moped and vacuumed, dusted and polished. She was cheerful and pleasant; she even cooked dinner a few times much to Butters' delight. But Mephesto always seemed to act the same with her. He studied her with an off putting, distrusting stare that sometimes made her wiggle uncomfortably in her own skin. How he'd glare at her while she hummed and did her tasks; he did so openly and without the least bit of tact. He could have at least looked away when she stared back, but he never did. She'd smile at him, silently acknowledging she'd caught him, but he never turned his head in shame.

He was always studying her, like one of his freaky science projects. And it scared Wendy just a little bit.

But Wendy tolerated the strange old man and that weird…small person that hung out with him. The little person never said much but whispered in Mephesto's ear every so often to the response of a nod and "uh huh." She found the pair of them to be much more agreeable on a full stomach. At dinner, he would deliver fun stories of the past, some of them involving the kids. He spoke about their visits to the lab, sometimes coming to his experiments. He talked about Mysterion, which was always her favorite to listen to. She would lose track of time completely, becoming engulfed in tales of his bravery and his uncanny ability to save the day at precisely the right time. They would discuss theories about why the vigilantly couldn't die and both she and Butters were fervent about the topic.

Kenny never came back to the house with her; he always said he had other things to do.

That night, Wendy was cooking up chili and cornbread. The whole house smelled warm and spicy, making her own stomach doing summersaults in anticipation. Butters, who was hard at work trying to fix the lighting in the dining space, came in looking defeated.

"It's no wonder he got this place for so cheap! It's a mess!" he shook his head. "Makes me so sad that they take advantage of the elderly the way they do."

"Tell me about it. It's a miracle I got the stove on today and the oven barely heats up in time to cook anything." She told him with a shake of her head, pulling her cornbread from the hot box. "It took me an extra thirty minutes for this to cook through!"

"I'll look at it this week." He promised. "I think we might need to replace it completely."

"Isn't that the complex's job?" she asked, taking some of the bowls out of the dish drainer and filling them with food.

"He bought the apartment in entirety." He explained with a heavy sigh. "Appliances and all. Like I said…this is a nasty shame. Shame on those owners, I tell you."

Wendy nodded along as she continued serving, walking the bowls to the already set table. She'd even cut some flowers for the vase, giving the room a cheerful pop of color.

"Go get him, will you?" she asked Butters in her kindest voice.

He practically ran to oblige her. Wendy felt a little bad; she would be blind to not have noticed Butters staring at her all the time. She'd even turned around once to catch him ogling from her behind when he should have been fiddling with a lamp. Butters had had girlfriends in high school; not long relationships, but a good amount of time and plenty to have built up confidence with women. But, for the sake of peace in the house and to save face due to awkwardness, she said nothing and pretended she hadn't seen a thing.

Mephesto came down the hallway slowly, relying heavily on the cane as he lumbered towards the table. He sniffed deeply, wrinkling his nose.

"What is it?" he asked gruffly.

"Chili." She said pleasantly. "And cornbread."

"Hm." He plopped down at the head chair. "I like cornbread."

"I thought you might." She said down at the chair closest to the kitchen and Butters sat across from her. Butters and Wendy folded their hands like they might say grace, but when Mephesto began to heartily dig into his food they exchanged looks and awkwardly reached for their utensils.

"Amen." Wendy said under her breath, taking a small bite of her half portion. Then she lifted her voice once more. "So where is uh…"

"Kevin has business this evening." Mephesto said through a saucy mouthful. Wendy would have cringed if she hadn't cared about looking impolite."He won't be eating with us."

"I'll be sure to save him a plate in the microwave." She noted smartly before returning to her own meal.

A few tedious moments of silence whistled by painfully. Butters finally cleared his throat to talk.

"So what did you do today, Wendy?" Butters asked pleasantly.

"Work." She swallowed and sipped the glass of diet soda she'd set out for herself delicately. "Long shift today, but I had a friend come in a visit today."

"Oh yeah? Who?"

Wendy found herself smiling just a little bit. Today, Damien had stopped by.

The pair had texted on and off since their last encounter; nothing elaborate, but enough to keep in touch. Today, he'd asked to hang out and when she had to decline because of her shift, he'd come in to reprimand her. They had ended up hanging out on her lunch break, speaking out in the ally. It ended as most of their encounters did; he insulted her and she blew up, feeling red faced and frustrated. But this time, as she went to storm back into her establishment, he'd grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in for a brief hug.

"Your temper is refreshing." He'd said, releasing her from the embrace as quickly as he'd yanked her into it.

The smell of him still clung to her clothes. Cinnamon, sandalwood, and the clove of an ashy cigarette he'd smoked while they were speaking. Now, as she sat eating her measly portion of low fat chili, the aroma emitted off her blouse. She secretly enjoyed it; she never got to appreciate the smell of a man those days. Unless you counted Kenny, but she had grown so accustomed to his scent that she barely even noticed it even more.

"My friend Damien." She said with a smile. "You remember him? We all went to elementary school together."

She saw Butters scrunch his face in forgetfulness. She watched as Mephesto stopped chewing for a moment.

"Damien." The old man echoed. "Thorn?"

"One in the same." She smiled, happy to have brought up the topic. Maybe they could talk about the past for a while.

"I don't remember him…" Butters frowned. "Did he have dark hair?"

"Yeah. Black." She nodded. "He wears a lot of black; I think he always did. He's moved back here and lives down the street from here."

"How funny, I don't remember him." Butters shook his head.

"Yeah, I have that problem too." She noted, watching as Mephesto began to stare once more. "I don't really remember too much about him, except that he was in class with us. But he's a cool guy. He's got a weird sense of humor, but he's a lot of fun. We—"

She wasn't allowed to finish. Mephesto slammed his silverware down on the table and caused by the two younger people to jump in alarm.

"Enough of this!" he snarled. "You don't remember huh? Like HELL you don't remember!"

"Professor…" Wendy's voice had a nervous edge to it. "I don't know what you….."

"Don't remember." He repeated scornfully. "How could you forget? You all wander around like you have a case of amnesia. Like your don't remember all those hyjinx. The celebrities, Cthulhu, that little antichrist…"

Wendy felt her face flush free of color. Those last names were very familiar. So much so, her stomach churned with a sudden sickness. And then Mephesto turned on her.

"And YOU." He accused. "YOU sitting there, who're you fooling, sister? This little Martha Stewart isn't fooling anyone, little girl. You think I don't KNOW? How could I not? Maybe all the other adults in this crap heap pretend not to remember, but I do. I remember everything; me and that Mysterion boy remember the whole big stink. The fact that you two think you can sit here, you two of ALL PEOPLE, and pretend everything is fine and dandy…"

"That's enough." Butters stood, looking as shaken as Wendy felt. "Y-You can't speak to a lady like that, Mr. Mephesto. I don't care how old and se-senile you are."

"So be it then." Mephesto got to his feet, grabbing his bowl and beginning his long hobble down the hall. "I've had enough of both of you for the day; you let yourselves out."

Wendy sat there long after he'd walked away, feeling nauseous and confused. Butters came to stand beside her, speaking soothingly.

"He's just old." He said like this would explain everything away. "They get crazy at that age. Please don't be upset, Wendy. They always say and do things that don't make sense. I mean, my mom.."

"Its fine." She said, putting her happy face back on and standing, putting her napkin down on the table. "I think I'm gonna go though….do you mind picking up the dishes?"

"Of course not." He assured her, walking her to the door. "But….you'll be back tomorrow, won't you?"

"I will." She promised, opening the door and taking in a deep breath of fresh, cold air. Her head already felt a little less stuffed. "I'll see you in the morning, Butters."

"Good night, Wendy." He gave her a half hearted wave as she began to walk to the other side of the complex.

Wendy walked in silence, swimming in the hot ocean of her own thoughts. She was baffled, rattled, but excited. The prospect of getting a little closer to finding some things out was enthralling but she felt al little scared. There was a creepy feeling that inched through her like it was a living being, thriving inside of her and eating up her confidence. Something about that "nonsense" he was spewing struck true. She knew the name Cthulhu. She would google it when she got home, if she ever figured out how to spell it.

The smell of Damien hung on her and now wafted like a cloud in the cold, still air. She hugged her arms to her chest, walking a little quicker. She was suddenly aware she wasn't alone. She paused, looking all around. All she could see was the outline of a dog prodding towards her in the distance. She smiled, kneeling down and offering out her hand. She made a kissing sound with her mouth to beckon the beast over.

"C'mere honey." She called as it came closer, crossing into the light of the only streetlight separating them.

As the being's features came into light, Wendy felt terror seize her body. The creature, whatever the hell it was, was not a dog. It was massive; probably taller than Wendy if it stood on two legs. Its head was pointed and ferocious. It had its teeth barred; it had a mouthful of long, yellow fangs dribbling with red tinged saliva. Its eyes were bloodshot and the pupils were a radiant yellow. The dirty black fur was matted with blood; the broken, red skin underneath stuck out in hot, terrible patches along its massive body. The muscles of its legs and thighs throbbed violently with power and its claws were long, black and sharpened to razor like points. The creature's tail was thick at the end and heavy end that as it sat on the ground, it landed with a small thud like a rock.

And it was staring at her like it was Wendy who he'd been wandering around looking for.

She took a small step back, afraid to alarm it. She wanted to scream for Butters to come help, but her voice died in her throat. The creature leaned down, getting ready to pounce.

She could have sworn the thing smirked at her.

Wendy broke into a run. She could hear the awful thing running behind her and growling. She turned sharply, sprinting up the stairwell. She wanted to scream; she tried to will her throat muscles to respond but nothing happened. She knew she had to get to her apartment. She could grab a knife or better yet, the small gun Kenny had stuck in her underwear drawer after she'd been robbed a year or so before. Not that she knew how to fire it.

Common sense said she would be able to figure it out.

The huge beast lunged at her, missing her by a hair and ramming into the wall corner. Wendy paused at the top of the stairs to look back it, watching as it was shakily getting back onto its legs. The thing emitted steam; it had suddenly become so hot, she could feel it from where she stood. It started towards her again with a renewed ferocity and she ran, scrambling to get her keys from her purse. Her hands trembled violently, making looking for the small key chain a mission of impossible status. By the time she grabbed them, she stumbled and fell to the ground, rolling onto her side. The keys skid backwards, right by the massive beast's heavy paws. He stepped on them and Wendy could have sworn she heard the metal keys moan under the strain of weight. There was something evil in its eyes; it had come to kill her, she was certain.

Wendy sat up on her palms and resolved that if this was it, she was going to fight. The creature lowered its body down and pounced, leaping into the air with the greatest of ease. Wendy threw up her arm, ready to throw it off, when something threw it off before her. There was a hot splatter of something bright green across her face that smelled horrifically like blood. Wendy blinked, in shock, as the hot liquid stung her face.

The massive creature fell to the ground, eyes still open, with green ooze leaking from its head. Instanlty, it began to smoke even more profusely and it began to dissolve into smoke before her eyes. Soon, there was nothing but smoldering ash and grey smoke where the beast had been. Wendy had to cover her mouth to keep the scream which had just thawed in her throat from escaping.

" 'Zat was easier zen I thought."

The smooth French accent came from behind her and she turned sharply, feeling the ooze dripping down her cheeks. The man who'd been stalking her, unknown to her of course, stood behind her. He held a sleek, metallic black gun that was still smoking itself. He looked at her, mildly impressed.

"You didn't scream." He noted. "You're ballsier zen I thought. How pleasant. Zis will be easier zen, no?"

Wendy suddenly felt lightheaded. If she didn't pass out, this was going to become one of the most impactful nights of her life.


End file.
